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OLD  KENSINGTON  PALACE 

AND  OTHER  PAPERS 


jean-baptiste  cant-hanet 
(otherwise  clery) 


[see  clary's  'journal' 


OLD  KENSINGTON 
PALACE 

AND    OTHER    PAPERS 

BY 

AUSTIN  DOBSON 


Nimirnn  nee  laiidare 
nee  lacdere 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


»  *    *  * 
I  J  » *  J 


CHISWICK    PRESS  :    CHARLES   VVHITTINGHAM    AND   CO. 
TOOKS   COURT,    CHANXERY    LANE,    LONDON. 


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ED/TOR  OF  THE  NA  TIONAL  REVIEW 

THESE  PAPERS 

UNDERTAKEN  MAINLY  A  T  HIS  INSTANCE 

ARE  NOIV 

WITH  ALL  GOOD  WISHES 

INSCRIBED 


3i^8285 


PRE  FA  TOR  Y  NO  TE 

As  wiplied  in  the  Dedication^  nine  out  of  the 
following  essays  appeared  in  the  '  National 
Review '  during  1 909- 1  o.  The  re^naining paper , 
'  Clerys  fournaP,  which  was  published  in  the 
'  Quarterly  Review '  for  fuly  1 909,  is  included 
by  the  kind  permission  of  Mr.  fohn  Murray. 
In  a  few  places  the  text  of  the  book  has  been 
modified  or  expanded;  and  several  notes,  with- 
held in  periodical  form,  are  here  added. 

Austin  Dobson. 

August  1910. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Jean-Baptiste  Cant-Hanet,  otherwise  Clery. 
After  the  portrait  by  H.  Danloux,  engraved  in 
1798  by  Philip  Audinet'  Frontispiece 

Old  Kensington  Palace.   From  J.  B.  Homann's 

print  of  1725  (?)  to  face  page         4. 

The   Prison   of    the   Temple.      From   Clery's 

'Journal'  to  face  page     291 

Plan  of  the  Second  Floor  of  the  Towers. 

From  Clery's 'Journal'  to  face  page     293 

Plan  of  the  Third  Floor   of  the  Towers. 

From  Clery's 'Journal'  to  face  page     295 

Facsimile  Letters.  From  Clery's  'Journal' 

to  face  page     297 

^  Reproduced  from  Lenotre's  'Last  Days  of  Marie  Antoinette,' 
1907,  by  permission  of  Mr.  William  Heinemann. 


CONTENTS 


Old  Kensington  Palace     . 

Percy  and  Goldsmith 

Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumlev    . 

Madame  Vigee-Lebrun 

Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight 

Laureate  Whitehead 

Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

Chambers  the  Architect  . 

Clery's  Journal         .... 

The  Oxford  Thackeray    . 

Appendix  A  (The  Prison  of  the  Temple) 

Appendix  B  (The  Last  Messages)     . 

Index    


PAGE 
I 

28 

53 
82 

112 

140 
173 
207 
238 
271 
291 
297 
299 


OLD  KENSINGTON  PALACE 

ONE  of  the  many  projects  of  that  indefatigable 
philanthropist,  Mr.  John  Evelyn,  of  Sayes 
Court,  Deptford,  was  a  scheme  for  suppressing 
London  smoke.  Walking  in  the  Palace  at  White- 
hall, not  long  after  the  Restoration,  in  order  to 
refresh  himself  with  the  sight  of  his  Royal  Master's 
illustrious  presence  (the  expression  is  his  own),  he 
was  sorely  disturbed  by  the  presumptuous  vapours 
which,  issuing  from  certain  tunnels  or  chimneys 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Northumberland  House 
and  Scotland  Yard,  did  'so  invade  the  court,'  that 
all  the  rooms,  galleries,  and  places  about  it  were 
fiU'd  and  infested  with  it;  and  that  to  such  a 
degree,  as  men  could  hardly  discern  one  another 
for  the  clowd,  and  none  could  support.'  Indeed 
that  high  and  mighty  Princess,  the  King's  only 
sister,  '  Madame '  herself,  accustomed  as  she  had 
been  to  the  purer  air  of  Paris,  was  grievously 
offended,  both  in  her  breast  and  lungs,  by  this 

1  i.e.,   the   open  space  at  the  back  of  the  Banqueting 
House  (now  the  United  Service  Museum). 

B 


2  Old  Kensington  Palace 

'  prodigious  annoyance,'  which  not  only  sullied 
the  glory  of  his  Majesty's  imperial  seat,  but  en- 
dangered the  health  of  his  subjects.  These 'funest' 
circumstances  set  busy  Mr.  Evelyn  a-thinking; 
and  presently  gave  rise  to  his  learned  tractate 
'  Fumifugium ;  or,  the  Inconveniencie  of  the  Aer 
and  Smoak  of  London  dissipated,'  w^hich  he  in- 
scribed to  King  Charles  II,  and  in  w^hich  he  dealt 
summarily  vv^ith  the  *  hellish  and  dismal  cloud  of 
sea-coal,'  by  recommending  that  all  brewers,  dyers, 
lime-burners,  soap-boilers  and  the  like  inordinate 
consumers  of  such  fuel,  should  be  dismissed  to  a 
competent  distance  from  the  city,  and  moreover 
— as  might  be  anticipated  from  the  future  author 
of  *Sylva' — that  every  available  vacant  space 
should  at  once  be  planted  with  sweet-smelling 
trees,  shrubs  and  flowers.  '  Our  august  Charles ' 
— always  a  compliant  monarch — highly  approved 
these  opportune  suggestions,  and  a  Bill  was  drafted 
accordingly.  But  there  the  matter  rested.  A 
century  later,  when  Evelyn's  pamphlet  was  re- 
printed, nothing  had  been  done:  while  numerous 
glass-houses,  foundries  and  potteries  had  added 
their  baleful  tribute  to  the  'black  catalogue.'  Nor 
can  it  be  affirmed  even  now  that  the  evil  is 
entirely  of  the  past,  since,  not  many  months  ago, 
the  London  County  Council  were  still  assiduously 


Old  Kensington  Palace  3 

concerting  measures  for  what  Evelyn  terms  the 
*meHoration  of  the  aer.'^ 

To  the  reader  who  recalls  the  title  of  this  paper, 
the  connection  of  Kensington  Palace  with  the 
smoke  of  London  must  seem  as  remote  as  the 
legendary  relations  between  Tenterden  Steeple 
and  Goodwin  Sands.  Yet  the  Whitehall  nuisance 
was^  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  proximate  cause  of 
the  Palace  at  Kensington.  If  the  state  of  things 
which  incommoded  Henrietta  of  Orleans  had 
not  been  equally  objectionable  to  the  '  asthmatic 
skeleton '  who  succeeded  James  II,  William  of 
Orange  would  never  have  bought  Nottingham 
House  from  his  Secretary  of  State.  He  could 
not  draw  breath  in  the  '  fuliginous  and  filthy ' 
atmosphere  of  Westminster;  he  was  unable  to  'lie 
in  Town';  and  he  was  only  too  willing,  shortly 
after  his  accession  to  the  throne  of  England,  to 
give  Daniel  Finch,  second  Earl  of  Nottingham, 
the  modest  ransom  of  eighteen  thousand  guineas 
for  a  less  murky  '  Retirement '  in  what  was  then 
the  rural  hamlet  of  Kensington.  From  its  salu- 
brious gravel-pits,  when  he  was  minded  to  go 
farther  afield,  he  could  easily  ride  on  Saturdays 
to  his  other  palace  by  the  Thames  at  Hampton; 
and  for  his  greater  easement  and  solace  in  the 
^  'Times,'  26th  May  1909. 


4  Old  Kensington  Palace 

conduct  of  State  business,  he  immediately  set 
about  constructing  that  'high  Causey,'  or  gravelled 
private  road  through  the  parks  to  Whitehall,  of 
whose  unw^onted  glories  the  old  topographers  are 
so  full.  'Three  coaches  may  pass' — says  Celia 
Fiennes — 'and  on  Each  side  are  Row^es  of  posts 
on  M^'^^  are  Glasses — Cases  for  Lamps  w°^  are 
Lighted  in  y^  Evening  and  appeares  very  fine  as 
well  as  safe  for  y^  passenger.'  To  latter-day  ideas, 
this  scarcely  implies  blinding  excess ;  but  '  autres 
te?npSj  autres  fiamheaux^  Ralph  Thoresby,  the 
antiquary,  writing  under  Anne,  considered  the 
illumination  of  a  thoroughfare  a  matter  so  excep- 
tional as  to  demand  a  special  entry  in  his  '  Diary.' 
King  William's  improvements,  however,  were 
not  confined  to  the  approaches  to  his  abode.  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  his  Surveyor-General  of  Works, 
added  another  story  to  Nottingham  House,  and 
considerably  enlarged  the  upper  floor;  thereby — 
in  Evelyn's  opinion — converting  the  whole,  al- 
though still  'a  very  sweete  villa,'  into  no  more  than 
'a  patch'd  building,'  which  latter  characteristic, 
in  spite  of  subsequent  extensions  by  George  I  and 
George  11,  it  still  retains.  The  King  also  appro- 
priated for  its  gallery  all  the  best  canvases  from 
the  other  royal  houses,  including  sundry  Titians, 
Raphaels,  Correggios,  Holbeins  and  Van  Dycks. 


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Old  Kensington  Palace  5 

In  addition,  he  made — or  perhaps  it  should  be 
Queen  Mary  made — 'a  great  collection  of  porce- 
lain,' and  brought  together  'a  pretty  private 
library.' '  Under  George  London,  the  famous 
gardener  (a  pupil  of  Charles  the  Second's  Rose, 
who  in  his  turn  had  studied  with  Andre  le  Notre), 
and  London's  partner,  Henry  Wise,  the  adjacent 
grounds  towards  Kensington  High  Street  were 
laid  out  in  the  reigning  Franco-Dutch  fashion  of 
trimmed  hedging,  figured  flower-beds,  and  formal 
walks.  North  of  the  building,  the  improvements 
eventually  extended  to  the  Oxford,  or,  as  it  is 
now  called,  the  Bayswater  Road,  occupying  most 
of  the  site  of  the  present  Palace  Gardens,  while 
to  the  south-west  was  an  olitory  or  potager  for 
herbs  and  kitchen  stuffs.  All  these  things,  how- 
ever, were  more  or  less  modified  by  the  subsequent 
occupants  of  the  Palace,  no  fewer  than  five  of 
whom  died  within  its  walls — namely,  King 
William  and  Queen  Mary;  Prince  George  o^ 
Denmark  (Anne's  husband);  Queen  Anne  her- 
self; and  George  H.  With  the  last-named,  as  a 
royal  residence,  its  vogue  ended;  and  it  was  little 
resorted  to  by  George  IIL  Consequently,  apart 
from  topography,  the  historic  interest  of  the 
building  clusters  chiefly  round  the  period  from 
^  Evelyn,  'Diary,''  23rd  April  1696. 


6  Old  Kensington  Palace 

William  and  Mary  to  George  II^    and  to  this 
period  these  pages  are  restricted. 

The  earlier  years  are  not  fruitful  of  anecdote; 
and,  in  addition  to  the  references  in  Queen  Mary's 
letters  to  her  husband  when  in  Ireland  as  to  the 
progress  of  the  works;  the  record  of  a  fire  which 
took  place  when  they  were  finished;  and  the 
diff^erent  functions  and  Drawing  Rooms,  there 
are  no  very  vivid  traces  of  Dutch  William's 
occupation.  Even  the  readily-stimulated  fancy 
of  Leigh  Hunt,  who  lived  so  long  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, can  but  people  its  solitudes  with  spec- 
tral may-have-beens,  since  of  the  Temples  and 
Burnets,  Congreves  and  Sheffields,  Priors  and 
Dorsets,  who  assuredly  must  once  have  traversed 
its  pleached  alleys  and  tapestried  chambers,  or 
chatted  in  its  alcoves  and  summer-houses,  no 
trustworthy  traditions  survive.  One  personage 
alone  emerges  crudely  from  a  shadowy  environ- 
ment, and  that  is  his  'Zarish  Majesty,'  Peter  the 
Great.  We  know  for  a  certainty  that  when  he 
was  not  working  as  a  shipwright  at  Deptford,  or 
drinking  peppered  brandy  with  the  Marquess  of 
Carmarthen,  or  '  urging  his  wild  career '  on  a 
wheelbarrow  through  Evelyn's  five-foot  holly 
hedge,  he  must  often — by  a  back  door  and  the 
disguise    of  a    hackney   coach — have   visited    at 


Old  Kensington  Palace  7 

Kensington  the  friend  and  admirer  who  paid  all 
his  expenses  in  England.  '  The  Czar  is  highly 
caressed  by  the  King,'  says  a  contemporary  letter- 
writer;  and  it  was  from  Kensington  Palace  that 
William  carried  his  guest  'unbeknown'  to  West- 
minster, in  order  that  he  might  survey  the  House 
of  Lords  through  a  skylight — much  to  the  diver- 
sion of  that  august  assembly.  At  Kensington, 
too,  the  bashful  barbarian  was  also  allowed  to 
inspect  privately,  from  a  masked  lurking-place 
(like  the  historical  'Lugg'  or 'Ear'  of  King 
James  of  learned  memory),  the  evolutions  of  a 
distinguished  company  assembled  in  the  King's 
Gallery  for  the  birthday-ball  of  the  Princess 
Anne.  To  the  King's  Gallery,  then  panelled 
with  oak,  and  still,  in  part,  elaborately  carved  by 
Grinling  Gibbons,  William  had  moved  most  of 
the  works  of  art  already  mentioned — master- 
pieces, according  to  Macaulay,  absolutely  without 
significance  to  the  autocrat  of  all  the  Russias. 
On  the  other  hand,  Peter's  practical  instincts 
were  profoundly  stirred  by  the  ingenuity  of  the 
still-existing  dial  surrounding  Norden's  map  of 
North-Western  Europe  over  the  chimney-piece, 
which  was  so  contrived  as  to  show  by  a  pointer 
the  direction  of  the  wind;  and  was  probably  as 
much  an  object  of  solicitude  to  his  pulmonic  host 


8  Old  Kensi?igton  Palace 

as  the  weather-cock  at  Whitehall   had  been  to 
James  II. 

One  pretty  story  of  these  days  remains,  which 
we  must  borrow  from  Leigh  Hunt,  as  it  exhibits 
the  gentler  side  of  that  volcan  sous  la  neige  whom 
so  many  of  his  contemporaries  found  frigid  and 
inaccessible.  Once,  when  William  was  hard  at 
work  with  his  secretary,  a  timid  tap  was  heard  at 
the  door.  (We  must  imagine  it  to  have  been 
rather  low  down  on  the  panels.)  'Who  is  there?' 
asked  the  King.  '  Lord  Buck,'  replied  a  clear, 
childish  treble,  so  the  door  was  opened.  The 
intruder  was  little  Lord  Buckhurst — a  four-year- 
old  son  of  the  Lord  High  Chamberlain,  the  Earl 
of  Dorset — who  was  anxious  for  his  Majesty  to 
be  horse  to  his  coach.  '  I've  wanted  you  a  long 
time,'  explained  this  small  petitioner.  And  there- 
upon the  hooknosed  and  saturnine  hero  of  the 
Boyne  and  Namur,  to  the  surprise  of  his  com- 
panion, *  taking  the  string  of  the  toy  in  his  hand, 
dragged  it  up  and  down  the  Long  Gallery,  till 
his  playfellow  was  satisfied.'^  In  such  an  incident 
one  recognizes  to  the  full  the  dual  personality  of 
the  man  who  poured  out  all  the  more  lovable 
side  of  his  character  in  his  familiar  correspondence 

^  Wraxall,  in  his  '  Memoirs/  gives  a  different  and  less 
picti'tescjue  version  of  this  story. 


Old  Kensington  Palace  9 

with  his  faithful  friend,  Bentinck,  and  who  was 
carried  insensible  from  the  deathbed  of  the  wife 
he  mourned  so  intensely  as  to  make  those  about 
him  tremble  for  his  understanding.  'There  is 
no  hope  of  the  Queen,'  he  cried  despairingly  to 
Burnet;  and  'from  being  the  happiest,  he  was 
now  going  to  be  the  miserablest  creature  upon 
Earth.'  In  the  whole  course  of  their  marriage, 
he  declared,  '  he  had  never  known  one  single 
fault  in  her.'  .  .  .  '  During  her  Sickness,  he  was 
in  an  Agony '  .  .  .  '  fainting  often,  and  breaking 
out  into  most  violent  Lamentations;  When  she 
died,  his  Spirits  sunk  so  low,  that  there  was  great 
reason  to  apprehend,  that  he  was  following  her; 
For  some  Weeks  after,  he  was  so  little  Master 
of  himself,  that  he  was  not  capable  of  minding 
business,  or  of  seeing  Company.'  Seven  years  later 
his  own  end  came,  and  when  they  laid  him  out, 
'  it  was  found  that  he  wore  next  to  his  skin  a 
small  piece  of  black  silk  ribbon.  ...  It  contained 
a  gold  ring  and  a  lock  of  the  hair  of  Mary.'  ^  And 
this  was  he  whom  those  who  were  not  his  intimates 
regarded  as  'the  most  cold-blooded  of  mankind! ' 
Queen  Mary's  figure  is  one  of  the  more  attrac- 
tive shadows  of  old  Kensington.    But  not  many 

'  These  words,  quoted  from  Macaulay,  have  the  addi- 
tional interest  of  being  the  last  in  his  History. 


lO  Old  Kensington  Palace 

memories  of  this  excellent  woman  and  magnani- 
mous wife  haunt  her  former  habitation.  In  the 
Gallery  which  still  goes  by  her  name,  now  piously 
restored  to  its  ancient  aspect  and  appointments, 
you  shall  see  Kneller's  portraits  of  herself  and  her 
husband,  together  with  the  same  artist's  whole- 
length  presentment  of  William's  northern  visitor, 
a  likeness  scarcely  as  prepossessing  as  the  Nattier 
at  Versailles,  for  all  that  it  is  alleged  to  render 
foithfully  '  his  stately  form,  his  intellectual  fore- 
head, his  piercing  black  eyes,  and  his  Tartar  nose 
and  mouth.'  Hard  by  is  the  narrow  Closet  where, 
when  the  Queen  thought  death  at  hand,  she  shut 
herself  up  to  burn  and  sort  her  papers,  which — 
we  know  from  Evelyn — were  in  faultless  order, 
*  to  the  very  least  of  her  debts,  which  were  very 
small,  and  everything  in  that  exact  method,  as 
seldom  is  found  in  any  private  person.'  Like 
Miranda,  in  Law's  '  Serious  Call,'  *  she  never 
inquired  of  what  opinions  they  were,  who  were 
objects  of  charity '  j  and  Evelyn  adds  that  she 
left  special  injunctions — unfortunately  discovered 
too  late — that  there  should  be  no  *  extraordinary 
expense  at  her  funeral.'  In  his  assertion  that  she, 
if  possible,  outdid  Queen  Elizabeth,  there  is  some- 
thing of  the  '  full  voice  which  circles  round  the 
grave  ';  but  Burnet,  whose  opportunities  of  study- 


Old  Kensinirton  Palace  1 1 


•^^ 


ing  her  character  had  been  exceptional,  scarcely 
falls  behind,  when  he  affirms  that  'she  was  the 
most  universally  lamented  Princess,  and  deserved 
the  best  to  be  so,  of  any  in  our  Age,  and  in  our 
History.' 

The  'Queen's  Closet,'  once  reduced  to  the 
rank  of  a  kitchen,  but  now  re-decorated  and 
'  extra-illustrated '  by  a  series  of  pictures  of  Old 
London,  together  with  the  adjoining  '  Queen's 
Private  Dining  Room '  and  '  Queen's  Privy 
Chamber,'  are  as  closely  connected  with  Queen 
Anne  as  with  her  sister.  Indeed,  it  needs  no 
great  stretch  of  imagination  to  decide  that  in  one 
or  other  of  these  apartments  must  have  taken 
place  that  final  engagement  of  1710  between 
'  Mrs.  Morley '  and  '  Mrs.  Freeman,'  in  which 
the  beleaguered  Queen  succeeded  in  vanquishing 
her  past  friend  and  present  antipathy  by  the  simple 
process  of  repeating  mechanically,  '  You  desired 
no  answer,  and  you  shall  have  none ! ' — an 
irreducible  verbal  rampart  against  which  tears, 
taunts,  and  expostulations  were  equally  ineffectual. 
Whether  it  was  here  also  that '  Atossa's '  husband 
actually  went  down  on  his  knees  (if  he  ever  did 
so!)  imploring  his  Royal  Mistress  to  take  back 
his  imperious  consort  into  favour,  is  not  easy  to 
say,  the  precise  data  not  being  forthcoming.  And 


1 2  Old  Kensinsrton  Palace 


'£>' 


at  this  point  one  may  interpose  a  consideration 
not  always  present  with  those  who  write  glibly 
on  the  glories  of  the  so-called  'Augustan  Age.' 
Queen  Anne's  epoch  and  Queen  Anne's  domestic 
economy  are  two  different  things — the  one  amply 
exhibited,  quivering  with  light  and  colour  and 
movement;  the  other  resovirceless,  monotonous, 
and  very  imperfectly  chronicled.  While  the  Ring 
in  Hyde  Park  was  filled  with  the  circling  chariots 
of  the  beau-monde ;  while  Sir  Plume  was  gallant- 
ing Belinda ;  while  the  coffee-houses  were  buzzing 
with  the  latest  essays  of  Mr.  Spectator,  and  the 
'  Gazettes  '  daily  bringing  tidings  of  new  victories 
by  Marlborough;  while  Swift  and  Pope  were 
writing,  and  Oxford  and  Bolingbroke  were  wrang- 
ling ^ — when,  in  short,  the  '  Age  of  Anne '  was  in 
full  swing  and  activity,  the  royal  figure-head  her- 
self— the  '  Anna  Augusta '  of  the  official  Muse — 
whose  tastes  were  the  table,  and  whose  books 
were  cards,  must  often  have  been  yawning  wearily 
behind  her  fansticks  at  St.  James's,  or  nursing 
her  hereditary  gout  in  a  dreary  isolation  at 
Kensington. 

At  Kensington,  which  she  much  affected,  her 
existence,  especially  during  her  widowhood,  can 

^  They  sometimes  wrangled  in  her  Majesty's  presence, 
but  the  exception  proves  the  rule. 


Old  Kensington  Palace  1 3 

certainly  not  be  described  as  animated.  Indeed, 
one  observer,  Sir  John  Clerk  of  Penicuik,  who 
visited  her  between  1706  and  1708,  when  the 
Union  was  a-making,  and  ^  Est-il-possible?''  was 
still  alive,  goes  so  far  as  to  speak  of  the  place  even 
then  as  '  a  perfect  solitude.'  .  .  .  '  No  Court 
Attenders  ever  came  near  her,'  he  says.  '  I  never 
saw  anybody  attending  there  but  some  of  her 
Guards  in  the  outer  Rooms,  with  one  at  most  [or 
more?]  of  the  Gentlemen  of  her  Bedchamber. 
Her  frequent  fits  of  sickness,  and  the  distance  of 
the  place  from  London,  did  not  admit  of  what 
are  commonly  called  Drawing-Room  nights,  so 
that  I  had  many  occasions  to  think  that  few 
Houses  in  England  belonging  to  persons  of 
Quality  were  keept  in  a  more  privat  way  than 
the  Queen's  Royal  Palace  of  Kensington.'  This 
is,  no  doubt,  the  testimony  of  a  solitary  witness, 
but  it  is  not  the  result  of  a  solitary  experience; 
and  since  Clerk  was  at  least  thrice  admitted  to  in- 
formal audiences,  he  must  have  seen  her  Majesty 
— as,  indeed,  his  account  makes  clear — in  all  the 
uncomely  disarray  of  mental  lassitude  and  physical 
infirmity.'  We  may  therefore  fiiirly  conclude 
that,  taking  her  periodic  attacks  of  illness  into 
consideration,  his  report  does  not  inaccurately 
'  'Memoirs,'  1892,  72,  62. 


1 4  Old  Kensington  Palace 

describe  her  dull,  unvaried  life.  For  this  reason, 
the  records  are  scanty  from  which  one  can 
draw  any  definite  deductions.  That  she  touched 
Johnson  for  the  evil  (without  effect)  we  know; 
but  this  was  probably  at  Whitehall.  That  in 
1 7 13  she  held  an  installation  of  Knights  of  the 
Garter  at  Kensington,  we  have  the  evidence  of  the 
picture  by  Peter  Angelis,  now  hanging  in  the 
Private  Dining  Room.  We  know  also  that  she 
laid  out  the  upper,  or  northern  garden,  achieving 
such  a  transformation  of  the  '  unsightly  Hollow ' 
of  the  Bayswater  gravel-pit,  as  won  the  approval 
of  Addison.  '  To  give  this  particular  Spot  of 
Ground  the  greater  Effect,'  he  says,  '  they  [Lon- 
don and  Wise]  have  made  a  very  pleasing  Con- 
trast, for  as  on  one  side  of  the  Walk  you  see  this 
hollow  Basin,  with  its  several  little  Plantations 
lying  so  conveniently  under  the  Eye  of  the  Be- 
holder, on  the  other  side  of  it  there  appears  a 
seeming  Mount,  made  up  of  Trees  rising  one 
higher  than  another  in  proportion  as  they  approach 
the  Center.' '  The  most  memorable  existing  relic 
of  Queen  Anne's  residence,  however,  is  the  stately 
red  and  yellow  '  Orangerie,  or  artificial  Green- 
house,' which  Wren  built  for  her  to  the  north- 
Spectator,'  No.  477,  The  Mount  and  Gravel-pit  are 
shown  on  Rocque's  plan  of  1754.. 


Old  Kensington  Palace  1 5 

east  of  the  Palace;  and  which,  after  years  of  dis- 
use and  neglect,  is  now  restored  to  something  of 
its  earlier  beauty.  That  it  was  occasionally  used 
for  balls  and  suppers  is  a  discredited  tradition 
but  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  assume,  with 
Mr.  Law's  very  helpful  '  Historical  Guide,'  that 
if  Her  Majesty  did  not  actually  '  take  counsel ' 
on  its  stone  terrace,  she  sometimes  'took  tea' 
there,  while  she  watched  her  gardeners  at  work 
on  the  geometric  plots  which  then  occupied  the 
space  in  front.^  Of  late  years,  this  space  was 
encumbered  by  unsightly  glass-houses  and  forcing- 
frames  ;  but  these  have  now  given  way  to  a  neat 
Dutch  garden  on  the  Hampton  Court  model, 
duly  equipped  with  fish-tank,  dwarf  walls,  flagged 
footways  and  birds  in  box.'^  Another  addition 
which  Queen  Anne  owed  to  Wren  was  the  red 
brick  and  marble  alcove,  now  re-erected  at  Marl- 
borough Gate.  Like  the  Orangery,  it  bears  the 
Queen's  monogram;  and  it  was  long  a  familiar 

1  See  frontispiece. 

^  Anne,  it  appears,  did  not  share  her  brother-in-law's 
ultra-Batavian  tastes,  for  she  pulled  up  all  the  boxwork 
which  London  had  planted  for  King  William  at  Hampton. 
London  himself  also  fell  out  of  her  good  graces;  and  his 
partner,  Wise,  became  her  horticulturist-in-chief.  (Blom- 
field  and  Thomas,  'Formal  Garden  in  England,'  1892, 
pp.  78,  76.) 


1 6  Old  Kensinscton  Palace 


&,' 


landmark  on  its  first  site  at  the  foot  of  the  Dial 
Walk,  with  its  back  to  the  High  Street,  and  its 
face  to  the  south  front  of  the  Palace.  In  his 
valuable  book  on  Kensington,  Mr.  W.  J.  Loftie 
repeats  a  tradition  that  the  alcove  '  u^as  used  by 
the  French  refugees  as  a  kind  of  altar  for  the 
celebration  of  an  open-air  mass  during  the  Revolu- 
tion, the  numbers  of  the  congregation  being  so 
great  that  no  building  available  was  large  enough 
to  receive  them.' 

'  The  Delight  of  her  Friends  and  Allies,  and 
the  Terror  of  her  Enemies,'  as  Anne  is  loyally 
styled  in  a  contemporary  broadside,  quitted  this 
life  at  Kensington  early  on  the  morning  of  Sunday, 
ist  August  1 71 4.  The  same  'authority'  gives 
her  *  last  Dying  Words,'  as  follow  :  '  Being  ask'd 
on  her  Death-bed  (by  the  Dutchess  of  Somerset) 
how  she  found  herself;  [she]  reply'd,  '  Never 
worse^  I  am  going;  but  my  hearty  Prayers  are  for 
the  Prosperity  of  this  poor  Nation:  and  at  the  same 
time  the  Tears  trickled  down  her  Cheeks.'  And  so 
she  died.  In  the  afternoon  George  Louis,  Elector 
of  Brunswick-Lilneburg,  was  proclaimed  King 
of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  thus  beginning 
his  thirteen  years'  reign.  His  unfortunate  wife 
had  been  locked  up  in  the  Castle  of  Ahlden  since 
1694;  but  when  he  ascended  what  he  was  made 


Old  Kensington  Palace  17 

to  describe  in  his  first  speech  as  '  the  throne  of  his 
ancestors,'  he  brought  with  him  a  sufficient  assort- 
mentof  his  faithful  Hanoverians — male  and  female 
—  to  make  that  arduous  Alpine  feat  supportable. 
'England  was  too  big'  for  this  '  honest,  dull,  Ger- 
man gentleman,'  as  (with  an  indulgence  which  is 
purely  conventional)  my  Lord  Chesterfield  calls 
him.  '  His  views  and  affections  were  singly  con- 
fined to  the  narrow  compass  of  his  Electorate,' 
He  cared  little  for  his  English  subjects,  and  did 
not  even  trouble  to  learn  their  tongue.  '  He 
knew  nothing,  and  desired  to  know  nothing,'  said 
Dr.  Johnson  :  '  did  nothing,  and  desired  to  do 
nothing,'  Consequently,  he  contributed  nothing 
to  the  legend  of  the  Palace  in  which  he  dwelt.  If, 
during  his  reign,  the  grounds  at  Kensington  be- 
came more  favoured  as  a  Saturday  promenade, 
where,  in  Tickell's  deathless  lines: 

Each  walk,  with  robes  of  various  dyes  bespread, 
Seems  from  afar  a  moving  tulip-bed, 
Where  rich  brocades  and  glossy  damasks  glow. 
And  chintz,  the  rival  of  the  showery  bow, — 

this  was  due,  not  to  him,  but  to  '■Madame  la 
Princesse^  his  clever  daughter-in-law,  Caroline  of 
Ansbach,  the  poet's  'darling  of  the  land,'  who 
popularized  the  place  by  resorting  to  it  with  her 
maids  of  honour. 

c 


1 8  Old  Kensington  Palace 

But  though  his  Majesty  failed  to  enliven  the 
site,  he  materially  enlarged  the  structure.  Up  to 
his  time,  the  South  Front  with  its  pilasters  and 
Portland  vases,  which  Wren  had  erected  for 
William  and  Mary,  had  been,  and  remains,  its 
most  prominent  architectural  feature;  but  under 
George  the  First,  William  Kent  added  that 
Eastern  facade,  whose  louring  pediment  frowns 
across  the  Round  Pond  towards  the  distant 
Serpentine.  For  the  same  monarch  Kent  also 
designed  and  ornamented  the  Drawing  Room, 
the  Cupola  Room,  and  the  King's  Drawing  Room 
and  Privy  Chamber.  It  is  customary  to  regard 
the  protege  of  Burlington  and  the  bete-no'ire  of 
Hogarth  as  a  legitimate  laughing-stock;  but  in 
some  respects  he  has  been  laughed  at  overmuch, 
a  fate  which  has  befallen  others  of  his  con- 
temporaries. In  any  case  his  work  (he  also  re- 
decorated Wren's  Grand  Staircase  and  added  its 
popular  painted  figures)  can  now  be  better  seen 
than  of  yore:  and  it  may  well  be  that  modern 
criticism  will  do  him  greater  justice.  He  was 
more  successful  as  a  decorator  than  as  an  architect; 
and  he  suffers  by  contrast  with  Wren,  whom  he 
supplanted.  He  is  at  his  gaudiest  in  the  niches 
and  statues  and  ceiling  of  the  Cupola  Room. 
Many  of  the  pictures  now  hanging  in  the  various 


Old  Kensington  Palace  19 

state  apartments,  and  recruited  from  Hampton 
Court  and  elsewhere  to  illustrate  the  history  of 
the  Palace,  are — it  should  be  added — of  the  highest 
interest.  Here,  long  assigned  to  Greuze,  is  the 
Pompadour  of  Vanloo's  pupil,  Drouais,  a  Pom- 
padour of  fading  charms  and  weary  grace,  but 
still  retaining  a  certain  porcelain  delicacy ;  here 
are  the  four  Louis's— XIV,  XV,  XVI,  and 
XVIII — the  last  substituted,  we  fancy,  for  a 
former  full-length  portrait  of  the  great  Frederick 
(with  an  appropriate  battle  in  the  background)  by 
his  court  painter,  Antoine  Pesne;  and  here  are 
the  flower-pieces  of  Queen  Mary's  favourite,  Jean- 
Baptiste  Monnoyer.  Here,  again,  is  a  replica  of 
that  'Death  of  Wolfe'  by  West,  which  Nelson 
could  never  pass  in  a  print-shop  window ;  here  is 
'dear  Mrs.  Delany,'  by  Opiej  here  also  is  West's 
funny  apotheosis  of  the  sons  of  George  III,  the 
Princes  Octavius  and  Alfred  (the  little  Octavius 
is  being  introduced  to  his  departed  brother  by  an 
angel !),  of  which  its  engraver.  Sir  Robert  Strange, 
gave  a  proof  to  Mrs. Delany'sfriend, Fanny  Burney. 
The  visitor  will,  however,  seek  in  vain  for  those 
famous  performances  which,  in  Thackeray's  story, 
roused  the  enthusiasm  of  George  Warrington, 
when  he  was  carried  by  his  time-serving  uncle 
to   make   his  bow   at    Court : — the  '  Venus '  or 


20  Old  Ke7isinzton  Palace 


'£>' 


Titian;  the  'St.  Francis  adoring  the  infant 
Saviour,'  by  Rubens ;  Van  Dyck's  '  Charles  I,' 
and  the  '  Esther  before  Ahasuerus '  of  Tintoretto. 
The  last  'noble  picture'  in  which, says  Thackeray, 
'  all  the  figures  are  dressed  in  the  magnificent 
Venetian  habit,'  you  may  still  study  at  Hampton 
Court;  while  King  Charles,  in  black  and  silver, 
and  Henrietta,  in  amber,  have  their  harbourage 
at  Windsor.^  But  the  other  two — unless  by  the 
Titian  is  intended  the  copy  of  that  in  the  Uffizi, 
also  at  Hampton — have  been  removed  to  other 
resting-places. 

The  author  of  '  The  Virginians  '  had  no  doubt 
good  contemporary  warranty  for  locating  these 
masterpieces  at  Kensington  in  1757,'  as  pictures 
were  freely  translated  from  palace  to  palace.  Of 
this  Hervey's  malicious  '  Memoirs '  afford  a  fa- 
miliar illustration.  In  the  Great  Drawing  Room 
there  hung  a  '  monstrous  Venus,'  attributed  in- 
diff^erently  to  Michelangelo,  Jacobo  da  Pontormo, 
and  Sebastiano  del  Piombo,  which  was  a  special 

1  Pepys  saw  them,  in  1667,  in  the  Matted  Gallery  at 
Whitehall. 

-  Probably  he  relied  on  Dodsley's  '  London  and  its  En- 
virons,' 1761,  iii,  271-3,  where  these  four  pictures  are  men- 
tioned as  decorating  the  '  Great  Drawing  Room  '  and  the 
*  Painted  Gallery.' 


Old  Kensington  Palace  2 1 

target  of  opprobrium  to  Hogarth  and  the  oppon- 
ents of  the  '  Black  Masters.'  During  one  of  the 
King's  annual  absences  from  England,  Queen 
Caroline,  whose  taste  in  art  was  more  refined 
than  her  husband's,  succeeded,  with  the  conniv- 
ance of  her  Vice-Chamberlain,  Hervey,  in  smug- 
gling some  of  the  more  objectionable  decorations 
of  this  particular  apartment  to  Windsor  and 
Hampton,  and  in  replacing  them  by  more  attrac- 
tive subjects.  King  George,  who  had  returned 
from  his  Electoral  distractions  in  an  extremely 
bad  temper,  at  once  commanded  that  all  the  old 
pictures  should  be  brought  back.  Partly  to  please 
the  Queen,  partly  in  the  interests  of  art,  Hervey 
ventured  to  expostulate,  and  was  incontinently 
snubbed  in  the  roundest  royal  manner.  The  King 
preferred  his  own  taste;  and  did  not  choose  that 
the  Queen  and  the  Vice-Chamberlain  should  pull 
his  palace  to  pieces  in  his  absence.  '  Would  his 
Majesty,'  interjected  Hervey  insidiously,  '  have 
the  gigantic  fat  Venus  restored  too?'  'Yes,  my 
Lord,'  was  the  reply.  '  I  am  not  so  nice  as  your 
Lordship.  I  like  my  fat  Venus  better  than  any- 
thing you  have  given  me  instead  of  her.'  To 
which,  if  there  were  more  than  one  pertinent  re- 
joinder, there  was  none  expedient  to  a  politic 
Court  official.    Eventually,  with  much  difficulty. 


22  Old  Kensington  Palace 

the  pictures  were  reinstated ;  and  the  '  monstrous 
Venus'  still  figures  in  Dodsley  and  the  other 
authorities  as  one  of  the  glories  of  the  Great 
Drawing  Room.  It  is  also  permissible  to  regard  it 
as  identical  with  the  '  Venus  and  Cupid  '  which  at 
present  hangs  in  the  Prince  of  Wales's  Drawing 
Room  at  Hampton,  and  is  supposed  to  be  a  copy 
from  Michelangelo  by  his  imitator,  Bronzino. 

The  incident  of  the  Venus  occurred  in  1735, 
when  King  George  II  had  been  eight  years  King 
of  England.  In  1737  Oueen  Caroline,  that  as- 
tute and  devoted  helpmate  who  ruled  her  lord  by 
professing  to  be  ruled  by  him,  died  at  St.  James's  j 
and  for  nearly  twenty-three  years  more  her  hus- 
band continued  to  reign,  bereaved  but  not  incon- 
solable. No  one  can  possibly  contend  that  his 
Majesty  was  a  very  worshipful  sovereign,  even  if 
we  admit  that  he  was  abler  than  his  father;  that 
he  was  not  ill-educated;  that  he  had  some  good 
instincts,  and  that  he  spoke  English  correctly, 
though  '  with  a  bluff  Westphalian  accent.'  In  a 
frigid,  constrained  way  he  was  well-bred,  and  he 
had  the  minor  virtues  of  method  and  punctuality. 
Avarice  seems  to  have  been  his  ruling  passion. 
Whether  he  was  bad-hearted  at  bottom,  whether 
he  was  really  brave — are  still  open  questions. 
*■  II  est  fouy  said  his  father,  who  hated  him,  '- mais 


Old  Kensington  Palaec  23 

//  est  honnete  homyne.^  This  is  Hervey's  version, 
but  in  Horace  Walpole's  *  Reminiscences,'  the 
word  is  '■fougueuxy  and  whether  the  second  syl- 
lable was  omitted  by  the  one  or  added  by  the 
other,  is  a  further  matter  of  debate.  For  the  rest, 
King  George  was  selfish,  self-satisfied,  unsym- 
pathetic and  uninteresting.  It  may  be  that  he 
would  have  appeared  to  greater  advantage  in  the 
never-published  '  Memoirs  '  of  Bolingbroke  and 
Carteret;  but  it  is  unlikely.  He  himself  did  not 
expect  laudation  from  either  quarter.  The  fore- 
going characteristics  are  mainly  derived  from 
Chesterfield,  who  painted  him  after  '  a  forty  years' 
sitting';  and  who,  though  his  Royal  Master 
dubbed  him  'a  little  tea-table  scoundrel,'  and  a 
'dwarf-baboon''  (terms  which  indicate  gifts  of 
vituperation  not  hitherto  scheduled),  was,  never- 
theless, a  keen  and  truthful  delineator.  These 
things  being  so,  it  is  needless  here  to  lard  the  lean 
recordofhis  private  life,dignifiedor  undignified, by 
petty  details  from  the  '  Suffolk  Correspondence,' 

1  Hervey's  portrait  of  Chesterfield  is  not  more  com- 
plimentary. '  He  was  very  short,  disproportioned,  thick, 
and  clumsily  made  5  had  a  broad,  rough-featured,  ugly 
face,  with  black,  teeth,  and  a  head  big  enough  for  a 
Polyphemus' (' Memoirs  of  the  Reign  of  George  II,'  1848, 
i,  96).  One  scarcely  recognizes  him  whom  Johnson  called 
the  '  njainqueur  de  la  terre ' ! 


24  Old  Kensington  Palace 

or  the  chron'ique  scandaleuse  of  '  coffin-faced  'John 
Hcrvey — that  '  Curll  of  Court,'  as  Pope  calls  him 
among  other  things,  not  without  reason.  Leigh 
Hunt  light-heartedly  fills  his  barren  spaces  with 
irrelevant  gossip  of  the  Georgian  maid  of  honour 
— of  Pitt's  sister  Anne,'  as  like  him  as  '  deux 
gouttes  de  feu ' ;  of  the  charming  and  sensible 
Molly  Lepel,  to  whom  Hervey  was  already 
married;  of  the  two  handsome  Bellendens, 
Madge  and  Mary;  of  Miss  Hobart  (afterwards 
Lady  Suffolk)  and  all  that  '•  lieta  Brigata''  whom 
John  Gay  sings  so  lustily  in  his  cheery  '  Wel- 
come to  Pope  from  Greece.'  The  author  of  the 
'  Old  Court  Suburb '  also  manages  to  spin  a  long 
chapter  out  of  the  cruelly-clever  '  Kensington 
drama'  in  which  Hervey  depicts  the  effect  of  a 
report  of  his  own  death  upon  the  little  Court 
circle — a  document  wholly  admirable  in  its  re- 
morseless analysis  of  character,  and  its  disclosure 
of  Court  perfidies,  banalities,  formalities,  but  far 
too  long  for  our  present  purpose,  which,  after  all, 
is  no  more  than  to  describe  the  now  vacant  scene 
of  action. 

The  structural  additions  made  by  Kent  for  the 
first  George  were  continued  under  the  second, 
and  consisted  mainly  of  a  west  wing  intended  as 
a  nursery.    But  the  alterations  in  the  surrounding 


Old  Kensington  Pa/ace  2  5 

grounds,  due  in  great  measure  to  the  initiative  of 
Caroline  of  Ansbach,  were  more  radical  and  more 
extensive.  After  William's  London  and  Anne's 
Wise,  came  the  Bridgeman  and  Kent  of  their 
successors,  under  whose  auspices  stretches  of  lawn 
were  substituted  for  '  scrolled-work '  parterres,  and 
groves  and  avenues  took  the  place  of  'verdant 
sculptures'  and  'square  precision.'  Although 
Bridgeman  still  clipped  his  hedges,  it  was  'with 
a  difference';  and  he  adopted,  if  he  did  not 
originate,  the  '  ha-ha '  and  sunk  fence,  the  pic- 
torial effect  of  which  was  practically  to  annex  the 
outlying  country  to  the  enclosure.  With  Kent 
and  the  next  regime,  Queen  Anne's  trim  gardens 
to  the  north  and  south  successively  disappeared; 
while  to  the  east,  tree-shaded  walks  and  vistas  into 
the  park,  began  to  open  in  all  directions.  Slopes 
were  softened;  hollows  gently  lifted;  where  now 
towers  the  Albert  Memorial,  a  revolving  tem- 
ple rose  from  its  'specular  Mount';  the  Round 
Pond  was  evolved;  the  string  of  West  Bourne 
Pools  became  the  Serpentine  (which,  a  literal  bard 
remarks,  is  not  '  serpentine '),  and  the  Broad 
Walk  was  laid.  Thus,  by  gradual  and  almost  im- 
perceptible degrees,  came  into  existence  those 
full-leaved  and  umbrageous  Kensington  Gardens, 
of  whose  '  lone  open  glade  '  and  '  air-stirred  forest, 


26  Old  Kensington  Palace 

fresh  and  clear,'  Arnold  in  the  sixties  found  it 
possible  to  sing: 

In  the  huge  world,  which  roars  hard  by, 

Be  others  happy  if  they  can! 
But  in  my  helpless  cradle  I 

Was  breathed  on  by  the  rural  Pan, 

lines  that  are  as  far  removed  from  Tickell's 
'  glossy  damasks  '  and  '  showery  bow '  as  the 
landscape  garden  is  from  the  formal,  or  the 
romantic  school  from  the  classical. 

But  Matthew  Arnold  and  the  sixties  are  also  a 
hundred  years  away  from  the  death  of  George  II, 
the  date  at  which  this  paper  ends.  It  would  be 
easy  to  speak  of  some  of  the  later  tenants  of  the 
place — of  the  Duke  of  Sussex,  who  here  as- 
sembled his  fine  library  ;  of  ill-starred  Caroline  of 
Brunswick,  who,  for  a  brief  space,  aired  her 
peculiarities  in  its  precincts;  and  of  Queen 
Victoria's  parents,  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Kent.  To  Queen  Victoria  herself,  who  was  born 
in  one  of  its  rooms  on  the  south-east,  underneath 
the  King's  Gallery,  we  owe  its  present  con- 
dition and  partial  accessibility.  Her  late  Majesty 
determined  that  the  house  in  which  she  first 
saw  the  light  should  not  be  allowed  to  fall  to 
pieces,  as,  not  so  very  long  ago,  seemed  only  too 
probable;  and   at   her  Diamond  Jubilee,  it  was 


Old  Kensington  Palace  27 

decided  by  Parliament  that  it  should  be  properly 
put  in  order,  and  that  its  state  apartments,  which 
since  October  1760,  when  King  George  II  died, 
had  been  closed  and  unoccupied,  should  be 
opened  to  the  public.  The  repairs  and  restora- 
tions, which  were  most  conscientiously  and  judi- 
ciously efFected,  completely  realize  the  intention 
of  the  work,  namely,  the  creation  of '  an  object- 
lesson  in  history  and  art.'  These  words  are  taken 
from  the  Preface  to  the  '  Kensington  Palace '  of 
Mr.  Ernest  Law — an  unpretentious  little  hand- 
book which  supplies,  from  official  sources,  not  only 
much  indispensable  information  as  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  building,  but  a  full  and  interesting 
description  of  its  present  appearance  and  contents. 


PERCY  AND  GOLDSMITH 

'  P  RELATE  and  Poet' — these  are  the  allitera- 
X  tive  titles  with  which  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Percy  is  dignified  by  his  latest  biographer,  Miss 
Alice  C.  C.  Gaussen.  That  he  was  a  prelate  may 
perhaps  be  held  to  'explain  itself — as  Goldsmith 
would  say — since  he  died  Bishop  of  Dromore. 
But  it  cannot  be  pretended  that,  either  as  priest 
or  theologian,  he  was  a  prelate  of  marked  distinc- 
tion. No  doubt,  with  many  of  his  day,  he  was 
an  accomplished  scholar.  He  prepared  a  key  to 
the  New  Testament;  and  he  re-translated  the 
'  Song  of  Solomon.'  But  he  left  no  monumental 
work  on  the  scale  of  Lowth  or  Butler;  he  printed 
but  few  sermons;  and  as  in  Overton  and  Relton's 
'  History  of  the  Church  in  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury' he  is  not  even  mentioned,  it  must  be  assumed 
that  he  took  no  conspicuous  part  either  in  Church 
affairs  or  in  the  Evangelical  revival.  As  a  poet 
pure  and  simple,  his  reputation — never  very  high 
— is  now  depressed.  His  'famous'  lyric  'O  Nancy, 
wilt  thou  go  with  me?' — of  which  the  motive  is 

28 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  29 

to  be  found  in  Nat.  Lee,  and  the  opening  couplet 
echoes  Allan  Ramsay — even  if  it  were  more 
original,  could  scarcely  be  held  to  rank  as  high 
as  the  pastorals  of  his  friend  Shenstone.  In  reality 
— for  all  that  Burns  called  it  a  '  charming  song ' 
— it  is  not  much  better  than  the  generality  of 
those  Orphic  ditties  which  were  nightly  quavered 
or  warbled,  by  Beard  or  Mrs.  Bland,  from  the 
*  bloom-coloured'  orchestra  at  Vauxhall.  Of  the 
'  Hermit  of  Warkworth,'  a  later  and  more  aca- 
demic effort,  it  is  sufficient  to  quote  the  verdict 
of  Wordsworth,  certainly  an  unprejudiced  critic, 
who  condemned  its  diction  as  scarcely  distinguish- 
able from  the  glossy  and  unfeeling  language  of 
its  day — a  condemnation  which  must  be  held  to 
be  confirmed  by  Johnson's  doubtful  praise  of  it 
as  '  pretty  enough.'  With  regard  to  the  '  Friar  of 
Orders  Gray,'  familiar  in  most  anthologies  as 
Percy's  most  individual  imitation,  it  has  not  only 
the  ill-fortune  to  come  after  Goldsmith's '  Edwin 
and  Angelina,'  which  it  resembles;  but  it  shares 
with  that  now  somewhat  discredited  masterpiece 
the  disadvantage  of  being  neither  completely  freed 
from  the  old  formal  vocabulary,  nor  wholly  sur- 
rendered to  the  unlessoned  utterance  of  natural 
emotion.  In  addition  to  which,  it  is,  as  its  author 
allows,  and  as  Goldsmith  calls  it,  a  '  cento.' 


30  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

To  what  then,  it  will  be  asked,  is  Percy's  un- 
questioned position  in  English  literature  to  be 
attributed?  The  answer  is,  that  it  must  in  large 
measure  be  traced  to  the  singularly  opportune  ap- 
pearance in  1765  of  his  'Reliques  of  Ancient 
English  Poetry.'  It  was  not  alone  that  this  collec- 
tion— based  primarily  on  a  ragged  MS.  book, 
rescued  from  a  fire-lighting  housemaid — consisted 
of  fragments  of  hitherto  unknown  ballad  min- 
strelsy, for  these  of  themselves  might  have  proved 
unmarketable:  but  coming  as  it  did  between  the 
visions  of  Macpherson  and  the  forgeries  of  Chat- 
terton,  and  being  moreover  cleverly  adapted  to 
eighteenth-century  tastes  by  its  editor's  connect- 
ing links  and  continuations,  it  supplied  precisely 
what  many  of  the  public  were  thirsting  to  receive. 
Tired  of  the  conventional  cup  of  Pope,  they  were 
yet  unfitted  for  Castalian  over-proof,  and  the 
Percy  infusion  cheered  without  inebriating.  To 
Johnson's  sturdy  conservatism,  it  is  true,  the  new- 
fangled fashion  of  archaic  artlessness  seemed — in 
spite  of  his  friendship  for  Percy — no  better  than 
'  lifeless  imbecility  ' ;  but  to  the  coming  genera- 
tion, aflame  with  new  ideas — to  Coleridge  and 
Southey,  to  Wordsworth  and  Scott,  the  'Reliques,' 
even  in  their  '  ballad-and-water '  stage,  offered  by 
their  opposition   to  almost   every  canon  of  the 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  31 

reigning  but  not  ruling  Muse,  a  new  and  un- 
travelled  world  of  imaginative  song.  Listen  to 
Scott  as  a  boy:  '  I  overwhelmed  my  schoolfellows, 
and  all  who  would  hearken  to  mc,  with  tragical 
recitations  from  the  ballads  of  Bishop  Percy.  The 
first  time,  too,  I  could  scrape  a  few  shillings  to- 
gether, I  bought  unto  myself  a  copy  of  these  be- 
loved volumes;  nor  do  I  believe  I  ever  read  a 
book  so  frequently,  or  with  half  the  enthusiasm.' 
Since  Scott  so  wrote,  the  original  '  Percy  folio ' 
has  been  published,^  with  considerable  readjust- 
ment of  the  Bishop's  reputation,  inasmuch  as  it 
is  now  generally  admitted  that  the  older  frag- 
ments are  immeasurably  superior  to  the  editorial 
restorations.  Nevertheless,  as  critics  have  pointed 
out  with  perfect  justice,  it  may  be  doubted  if, 
without  Percy's  contemporary'medium ' — to  usea 
studio  term — these  fragments  would  have  secured 
their  eighteenth-century  currency.  Whether  they 
establish  or  do  not  establish  Percy's  personal 
poetic  claim,  their  influence  at  a  critical  moment 
upon  the  study  of  our  ancient  English  poetry,  and 
the  part  they  played  in  the  preliminary  stages  of 
the  subsequent  revival  inaugurated  by  the  'Lyrical 
Ballads,'  cannot  now  be  questioned  or  gainsaid. 

'  '  Bishop  Percy's  Folio  Manuscript,'  edited  by  John  W. 
Hales  and  the  late  F.  J.  Furnivall,  four  vols.,  1867-68. 


32  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

This  may  appear  a  grudging  estimate  of  the 
book  that  Sir  George  Douglas,  in  his  brief  Pre- 
face '  to  Miss  Gaussen's  labours,  rightly  terms  an 
epoch-making  work.  Yet  it  may  be  observed -that 
even  Percy  himself  could  hardly  have  been  dis- 
turbed by  it,  since,  either  out  of  real  modesty  or 
false  pride,  he  seems  never  to  have  cared  greatly 
to  be  regarded  as  what  M.  Alceste  in  the  '  Misan- 
thrope '  calls  a  7niserable  auteur.  From  the  first  he 
shrank  shyly  from  needless  publicity.  His  earliest 
efforts  were  studiously  anonymous;  and,  at  all 
events  in  later  life,  he  professed  to  attach  but 
slender  importance  to  his  more  secular  labours  of 
the  pen,  the  'Reliques'  in  particular.  The  Bishop 
OF  Dromore,  he  told  the  advocates  of  that  an- 
thology in  1784,  must  not  be  connected  with  the 
'  sins  and  follies  of  his  youth.'  The  Mitre  had 
displaced  the  Muse;  and  he  had  come  to  doubt 
whether  he  had  not  wasted  his  time  '  in  bestow- 
ing any  attention  on  a  parcel  of  old  ballads.' ' 

1  This  is  confirmed  by  Miss  L.  M.  Hawkins,  who  writes 
tliat  when  her  father  pressed  the  bishop  to  revise  the 
'Reliques,'  he  declined,  saying  'that  he  had  Infinitely 
more  pleasure  in  his  success  in  having  obtained  from  the 
Government,  money  to  build  two  churches  In  his  diocese, 
than  he  could  ever  derive  from  the  reception  of  his 
"Reliques."'    ('Anecdotes,'  etc.,  1822,  i,  314.) 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  33 

These  are  pronouncements  which  should  find 
scant  favour  with  those  who  beheve  the  literary 
calling  to  be  to  the  full  as  reputable,  and  even  as 
responsible,  as  the  clerical;  and  they  would  be 
more  persuasive,  if  we  did  not  know  that  the 
Bishop  was  quite  contented  that  his  son  and 
nephew  should  devote  their  energies  to  following 
his  lead.  But  this  episcopal  attitude  on  his  part 
leaves  us  free — before  entering  on  our  immediate 
purpose — to  limit  ourselves  to  some  preliminary 
account  of  him  as  a  person  of  importance  in  his 
day,  as  an  associate  of  persons  of  importance,  and, 
minor  foibles  excepted,  as  a  very  worthy,  learned, 
and  dignified  gentleman. 

He  was  born  at  Bridgnorth  in  Shropshire,  in  a 
picturesque  old  house  at  the  bottom  of  the  Cart- 
way— his  grandfather  and  father  being  grocers. 
No  less  he  claimed  to  be  descended  from  the 
ancient  Earls  of  Northumberland,  and  '  had  his 
claims  allow'd '  by  the  family.  After  being  edu- 
cated at  the  local  grammar-school,  he  obtained  an 
exhibition,  and  matriculated  at  Christ  Church. 
While  at  Oxford  he  became  known  to  Gray, 
whose  earliest  English  production,  the  '  Ode  on  a 
Distant  Prospect  of  Eton  College,'  was  printed  by 
Dodsley  in  1747,  during  the  first  year  of  Percy's 
Oxford  residence.    He  seems  even  to  have  begun 

D 


34  Percy  aud  Goldsmith 

recollectionsof  Gray  which,  however,  got  no  farther 
than  a  few  lines;  and,  like  the  story  in  '  Hudibras,' 
broke  off  abruptly — in  the  middle  of  the  Peter- 
house  water  episode.  At  this  date,  from  a  note  of 
Gray,  Percy  appears  to  have  called  himself  Piercy. 
B.A.  in  1 750,  and  M. A.  in  1753,  he  was  presented 
by  his  College  in  the  latter  year  to  the  living  of 
Easton  Maudit  in  Northamptonshire,  to  which, 
three  years  later,  his  neighbour  Lord  Sussex  added 
the  living  of  Wilby,  both  of  which  benefices  he 
held  until  1782,  when  he  became  Bishop  of 
Dromore.  At  Easton  Maudit,  where  (like  Sterne 
and  the  '  Vicar  of  Wakefield')  he  had  a  thatched 
parsonage,  and  a  pleasant  garden  to  boot,  with  a 
turnpike-road  hard  by  leading  straight  to  London, 
he  took  up  his  abode  in  1756,  intending  to  divide 
his  time,  in  the  true  ^nd-dulc'ius-otio-Utterato 
spirit,  '  between  books  and  pleasure.'  As  yet,  the 
'  peculiar  chosen  female  ' — for  he  uses  the  objec- 
tionable term  favoured,  among  others,  by  Borrow 
and  the  excellent  Mr.  Collins  of '  Pride  and  Pre- 
judice ' — had  not  revealed  herself;  and  a  bachelor 
life  seemed  more  desirable  than  marriage.  But 
one  cannot  with  impunity  play  at  hay-making 
with  the  '  fair  sex '  (here  he  would  have  come 
under  the  condemnation  of  Swift!)  in  vicarage 
closes;  and  in  April  1759,  he  married  the  Nancy 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  35 

of  his  choice,  Miss  Anne  Gutteridge,  a  very 
amiable,  and,  from  her  portrait,  not  unprepossess- 
ing young  lady,  who  made  him  an  excellent  wife 
of  the  Mrs.  Primrose  type,  albeit  she  did  not  com- 
plete the  programme  of  his  song  by  *  receiving 
his  parting  breath,'  since  he  survived  her  for  some 
years. 

This,  however,  is  to  anticipate.  At  Easton 
Maudit  six  children  were  born ;  and,  in  spite  of 
an  admitted  incompatibility  between  the  Muses 
and  matrimony,  he  dabbled  in  literature.  At  the 
end  of  1 76 1  he  put  forth  '  Hau  Kiou  Choaun,'  a 
translation  of  a  Chinese  novel  which  he  dedicated 
to  the  Countess  of  Sussex;  in  1762  succeeded 
'Miscellaneous  Pieces  relating  to  the  Chinese'; 
and  in  1763  some  versions  of  Runic  Poetry.  He 
also  occupied  himself  in  editions,  never  issued,  of 
Buckingham  and  Surrey, — the  latter  a  duty  sub- 
sequently undertaken  by  Dr.  Nott.  In  the  sum- 
mer of  1764  he  was  visited  at  Easton  Maudit  by 
Dr.  Johnson  and  Mrs.  Williams.  At  this  time 
Percy  was  meditating  the  '  Reliques,'  and  tradi- 
tion represents  him  as  pacing  a  little  terrace  since 
known  as  *  Dr.  Johnson's  Walk '  and  discussing 
with  his  illustrious,  but  not  entirely  sympathetic, 
friend  the  publication  of  the  collection.  Johnson 
stayed  several  months  at  Easton  Maudit,  occupy- 


36  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

ing  himself,  among  other  things,  in  reading  right 
through  Ubeda's  '  Felixmarte  of  Hircania' — the 
'stiff  and  dry'  style  of  which  can  scarcely  have 
increased  the  liveliness  of  his  environment — and 
in  feeding  Mrs.  Percy's  ducks.  He  liked  the  lady, 
w^ho,  in  a  tempestuous  moment,  he  declared  had 
more  sense  than  her  husband ;  and  he  left  behind 
him,  as  a  memento,  an  ink-horn  which  is  still 
preserved  by  Percy's  descendants. 

With  1765  came  the  first  edition  of '  Reliques,' 
already  sufficiently  dealt  with.  This  led  to  the 
compiler's  introduction  to  Sir  Hugh  Smithson, 
created,  in  the  next  year,  first  Duke  of  North- 
umberland. He  had  married  Lady  Betty  Seymour, 
daughter  of  Lord  Hertford,  a  very  breezy,  un- 
conventional, and  good-humoured  gr and e dame ^{ox 
whose  amusement  Goldsmith  privately  printed 
his  '  Edwin  and  Angelina,'  and  who  herself  figures 
in  Walpole's  '  Titled  Authors '  as  the  gifted 
composer  of  some  bouts-rimds  on  Lady  Miller's 
Batheaston  muffins.  Percy  later  became  tutor  to 
the  Duke's  younger  son,  Lord  Algernon  Percy, 
and  was  subsequently  appointed  chaplain  to  the 
family.  This  '  unexpected  favour  from  Heaven' 
must  have  sadly  interrupted  the  Easton  Maudit 
domesticities.  For  upwards  of  six  months  every 
year  during  fifteen  years  or  more,  he  was  absent  at 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  37 

Alnwick  or  Northumberland  House  on  duty,  and 
when,  in  1 769,  he  became  chaplain  to  George  III, 
this  period  was  increased  by  enforced  attendance 
at  St.  James's.  Mrs,  Percy  herself  was  made  nurse 
to  Queen  Victoria's  father,  the  little  Duke  of 
Kent,  which  no  doubt  brought  her  to  Kew;  but, 
in  the  main,  she  cannot  have  seen  much  of  the 
husband  who  continued  to  assure  her  (by  letter) 
that  she  was  '  the  most  beautiful  and  worthiest  of 
women,  the  most  excellent  manager,  and  the 
friend  of  the  poor  and  whole  human  race.' 

At  Alnwick  the  duties  of  Dr.  Percy,  as  we 
may  now  call  him,  for  he  took  his  D.D.  degree 
at  Cambridge  in  1770,  were  as  multifarious  as 
those  of  Scrub  in  the  'Beaux'  Stratagem.'  Besides 
being  chaplain  and  tutor,  he  was  librarian,  secre- 
tary, genealogist,  political  agent,  landscape  gar- 
dener,art-collector,and  ballad-maker-general.  His 
functions  must  often  have  carried  him  to  London, 
where,  in  1768,  he  had  been  made  a  member  of 
the  famous  'Club,'and, though  occasionally'tossed 
and  gored  '  by  Johnson,  he  appears,  on  more  than 
one  occasion,  to  have  succeeded  in  being  as  rude 
to  Johnson  as  Johnson  was  rude  to  him.  At  the 
chaplain's  table  at  St.  James's  he  was  frequently 
able  to  entertain  his  friends;  and  his  name 
often  occurs  in  contemporary  memoirs  as  being 


38  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

present  at  dinners  and  social  gatherings.  But 
through  all  his  activities  he  still  kept  his  eye  on 
preferment,  his  enforced  separation  from  his  wife 
and   children   causing   him,   in   his  own   words, 

*  innocently  to  make  use  of  such  human  means 
as  prudence  suggested  for  the  establishment  of 
himself  and  his  family  in  a  more  independent 
position ' — a  roundabout  utterance  which  may  be 
roughly  translated  into  working  the  interest  of 
his  Ducal  patron  for  all  it  was  worth.  His  efforts 
were  crowned  with  success  in  1778,  when  he 
became  Dean  of  Carlisle.  Of  his  residence  at 
Carlisle  few  memories  survive,  although  Johnson 
was  told  that  he  was  '  very  populous  ' ;  and  its  chief 
event  was  the  death  from  consumption  of  his  only 
son  Henry,  a  youth  of  much  charm  and  promise. 
Then,  in  1782,  he  was  transferred  to  the  see  of 
Dromore  in  Down — 'the  smallest  independent 
diocese  in  Ireland,'  but  notable  from  the  fact  that 
one  of  his  predecessors  had  been  Jeremy  Taylor. 

In  1770  he  had  followed  up  his  early  tastes  by 
translating,  still  anonymously.  Mallet's  '  Northern 
Antiquities.'    This,  to  which  the  poem  of  the 

*  Hermit  of  Warkworth'  succeeded  in  the  ensuing 
year,  constitutes  his  last  important  literary  work, 
for  during  the  long  period  of  his  Irish  episcopate, 
he  published  nothing  but  a  sermon,  and  an  '  Essay 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  39 

on  the  Origin  of  the  English  Stage,  particularly 
on  the  Historical  Plays  of  Shakespeare,'  1793. 
His  biographer's  pages  for  this  date  are  pleasantly 
sprinkled  with  gossip  respecting  '  Peep-of-Day- 
Boys  '  and  '  Defenders,'  and  the  excursions  and 
alarms  of  French  invasion.  Through  all  these 
things,  the  Bishop's  figure  flits  fitfully,  if  not 
vividly;  and  the  record  is  varied  by  visits  to  Bath, 
to  Brighton,  and  to  London,  u^here,  in  the  last- 
named  year,  he  sat  a  silent  member  of  the  '  Club  ' 
at  its  first  meeting  after  the  execution  of 
Louis  XVI,  when,  out  of  fifteen,  Charles  Fox 
was  the  only  one  unmoved.  In  1795  his  eldest 
daughter,  Barbara,  was  married  to  Mr.  Isted  of 
Ecton,  a  delightful  Northampton  house,  to  which 
Percy  often  retired  from  distressful  Ireland.  Six 
years  later  a  second  daughter,  Elizabeth,  became 
the  wife  of  the  Hon.  Pierce  Meade,  a  son  of  Lord 
Clanwilliam.  At  Dromore,  we  must  imagine  the 
Bishop  feeding  his  swans,  gardening  a  la  Shen- 
stone,  playing  with  his  dogs,  or,  in  the  absence 
of  Mrs.  Percy,  erecting  a  coloured  bust  of  her  in 
the  garden,  which  by  night  became  an  enchanted, 
or  illuminated  statue.  In  1806  she  died;  and  two 
years  afterwards  also  died  the  nephew  who  had 
succeeded  to  his  son's  place  in  Percy's  affections. 
By  this  time  the  Bishop's  eyesight,  long  failing, 


40  Percy  a?id  Goldsmith 

had  gone  altogether,  and  in  a  few  years  more,  on 
30th  September  181 1,  he  passed  away  suddenly 
in  the  eighty-third  year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried 
by  the  side  of  his  wife  under  the  transept  of 
Dromore  Cathedral. 

Looking  at  Sir  Joshua's  portrait  of  Thomas 
Percy,  in  nightcap,  gown,  and  bands,  pressing  the 
famous  folio  to  his  breast — a  keen,  lean,  handsome 
face,  reminding  one  not  a  little  of  Richardson's 
Prior — it  is  difficult  to  seize  upon  any  definite 
traits  beyond  intelligence  and  refinement.  As  to 
the  clerical  characteristics  suggested  by  the  cos- 
tume, no  very  explicit  report  is  forthcoming. 
There  is  nothing  of  parish  work  in  his  North- 
ampton cure;  nothing  of  his  ministrations  as 
chaplain  at  Alnwick  Castle;  nothing  at  Carlisle 
but  a  praiseworthy  intervention  in  the  sale  of 
objectionable  books ;  nothing  at  Dromore  but 
pastoral  benevolence  and  a  tolerant  spirit,  to  which 
we  may  subjoin  from  his  epitaph,  as  probably  in- 
controvertible, that  he  discharged  his  duties  *  with 
vigilance  and  zeal,  instructing  the  ignorant,  reliev- 
ing the  necessitous,  and  comforting  the  distressed  ' 
— in  short  that  he  was  an  exemplary  specimen  of 
the  well-bred  and  well-to-do  Georgian  clergyman, 
with  a  considerable  leaven  of  the  courtier  and 
diplomatist.   In  his  social  aspect  he  seems  to  have 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  41 

been  urbane  and  accessible ;  but  it  is  not  recorded 
that  he  shone  as  a  raconteur  or  diseur  de  bons  mots. 
Fanny  Burney,  an  acute  observer,  who  met  him 
at  Bath  in  1791,  found  him  'perfectly  easy  and 
unassuming,  very  communicative  and,  though  not 
very  entertaining,  becavise  too  prolix  .  .  .  other- 
wise intelligent  and  of  good  commerce.'  ^  That 
he  had  a  hot  temper  is  admitted;  and  it  is  also  to 
be  inferred  that  he  was  distinctly  master  in  his 
own  house — a  fact  which  helps  to  explain  his 
adoration  of  his  wife.  For  the  rest,  he  was  a 
scholar  and  booic-lover,  with  a  fine  taste  and  con- 
siderable imitative  faculty,  added  to  a  special  in- 
clination towards  genealogy  and  antiquarian 
studies.  On  the  whole,  what  detaches  itself  most 
permanently  from  the  review  of  his  '  highly  re- 
spectable '  personality,  is  his  compilation  of  the 
'  Reliques'  and  his  friendship  with  Goldsmith  and 
Johnson. 

As  regards  Johnson,  beyond  what  has  been 
said,  Boswell  has  told  us  all  that  is  needful. 
But  Goldsmith's  name  reminds  us  that  our 
attention  was  first  drawn  to  the  new  biography 
of  Percy  by  the  hope  that  it  might  include 
fresh  particulars  concerning  his  other  great  con- 

'  *  Diary  and  Letters,'  1905,  v.  31.  Fanny  thought  Mrs. 
Percy  *  uncultivated  and  ordinary,'  but  '  a  good  creature.' 


42  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

temporary.  Nor  have  we  been  altogether  disap- 
pointed, although  our  first  note  must  be  one  of 
dissent.  In  1761,  as  already  stated,  Percy  pub- 
lished his  maiden  literary  effort,  the  anonymous 
version,  partly  by  himself  and  partly  by  *  a  Mr. 
Wilkinson,'  of  a  four-volume  Chinese  novel,  which 
— after  the  fashion  of  those  eighteenth-century 
scholars  who  took  their  Greek  from  Madame 
Dacier — had  been  '  done  into  English  '  from  the 
Portuguese.  Forster,  writing  perhaps  less  cauti- 
ously than  usual,  thought  that  Goldsmith's  old 
interest  in  the  flowery  people  had  been  revived 
by  the  performance  upon  which  '  his  dignified 
acquaintance  Mr.  Percy '  had  been  engaged.  But 
as  three-fourths  of  Goldsmith's  '  Chinese  Letters ' 
appeared  in  the  'Public  Ledger'  in  1760,  Miss 
Gaussen  is  driven  to  the  conclusion  that '  the  idea 
was  suggested  to  him  (Goldsmith) '  by  reading 
Percy's  book  in  manuscript.  He  may  even  have 
seen  it  in  type,  for  Shenstone  says  in  September 
1 761,  that  it  had  been  'printed  months  ago,  but 
[was]  not  to  be  published  before  winter.' ^  Our 
point,  however,  is,  that  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to 
connect  Goldsmith's  labours  with  Percy's  in  any 

i  Nichols's  'Illustrations,'  etc.,  1848,  vii,  p.  222.    As  a 
matter  of  fact,  '  Hau  Kiou  Choaun  j  or  the  Pleasing  His- 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  43 

way.  For  as  early  as  14th  August  1758,  three 
years  before,  Goldsmith  had  written  to  his  friend 
Bob  Bryanton  of  Ballymulvey,  touching  Chinese 
matters  in  general,  and  a  particular  Chinaman 
whom  he  should  soon  make '  talk  like  an  English- 
man'; and  it  is  admitted  that  Goldsmith  only 
met  Percy  for  the  first  time  on  21st  February 
1759.    Dates  are  stubborn  things ! 

There  is,  in  truth,  no  reason  why  'The 
Citizen  of  the  World  '  should  have  been  set  in 
motion  by  any  English  predecessor.  Goldsmith 
most  probably  and  reasonably  had  in  mind  the 
'  Lettres  Persanes  '  of  Montesquieu.  But  more 
than  nineteen  years  ago,  we  ventured  to  indicate, 
as  a  plausible  causa  causans  for  the  '  Chinese 
Letters,'  that  sprightly  epistle  which,  in  1757, 
Horace  Walpole  published  through  Graham, 
'from  Xo  Ho  [Soho?],  a  Chinese  philosopher  at 
London,  to  his  friend  Lien  Chi^  at  Peking.'  This, 
which  rapidly  went  through  several  editions,  was 
noticed  very  briefly  in  the 'Monthly  Review'  for 
May  1757,  at  which  date,  by  an  odd  coincidence, 
Goldsmith   was    actually    working    for    its    pro- 

tory,'  appeared  late  in  1761  ('Gentleman's  Magazine, 
xxxi,  605),  after  all  Goldsmith's  Chinese  letters  had  been 
published  in  the  '  Public  Ledger,' — the  last  being  dated 
14th  August  in  that  year. 


44  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

prietor,  Ralph  Griffiths ;  and  Lien  Chi  Altangi  is 
one  of  Goldsmith's  Orientals.  'May  1757'  has, 
besides,  the  advantage  of  being  before,  instead  of 
after,  August  1758,  when  Goldsmith  wrote  to 
Bob  Bryanton.  Such  things,  of  course,  are  but 
'  trifles  at  best,' — as  Goldsmith  said  of  a  later 
comparison  with  Percy.  Still,  whether  it  be  ours 
or  another's,  in  these  hasty  biographical  days,  a 
false  inference  cannot  be  killed  too  soon;  and 
we  decline  to  believe  that  Forster  really  held  that 
Goldsmith  owed  anything  to  Percy.  On  the  con- 
trary, in  the  opening  chapter  of  his  second  book, 
Forster  distinctly  suggests  that  the  major  part 
of  Percy's  works,  'Reliques  '  and  all,  may  have 
originated  in  a  remark  made  by  Goldsmith  in  his 
very  first  effort  in  the  'Monthly  Review'  for 
April  1757. 

On  the  next  point  we  must  express  our  grati- 
tude to  Miss  Gaussen.  One  of  the  illustrations 
of  her  volume  is  a  rare  portrait  of  Goldsmith. 
It  is  not  indeed  unprocurable,  as  we  ourselves 
possess  a  copy.  There  is  at  least  another  in  the 
British  Museum;  and  it  occasionally  appears  in 
second-hand  catalogues.  But  Miss  Gaussen's  fac- 
simile is  usefully  authenticated  in  Percy's  very 
legible  script,  as  '  a  Charicature  of  Dr.  Goldsmith 
etched   by  Mr.   Bunbury.'  To  Bunbury  it    has 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  45 

usually  been  attributed,  but  without  evidence.  It 
is  now  plain  that  this  is  one  of  what  the  '  Jessamy 
Bride'  described  to  Prior  as  her  brother-in-law's 
*  caricatures.'  There  are  two  other  known  sketches 
of  Goldsmith  by  Bunbury,  both  etched  by  James 
Bretherton ;  and  the  question  remaining  to  be 
decided  is,  which  of  these  constitutes  that  like- 
ness which  the  above-mentioned  Mrs.  Gwyn  also 
referred  to  as  giving  Goldsmith's  head  *with  ad- 
mirable fidelity,  as  he  actually  lived  among  us.' 
One,  a  square  plate,  shows  a  stolid,  inanimate, 
and  bourgeois  face ;  the  other,  in  the  '  Haunch 
of  Venison' — though  no  doubt  grotesquely  treated 
— is,  despite  its  bulbous  forehead,  long  upper  lip, 
and  receding  chin,  instinct  with  character,  viva- 
city, and  eager  good-humour.  Forster,  who  knew 
nothing — or  at  all  events  says  nothing — about 
the  other  sketches,  triumphantly  contrasts  this 
latter  with  Sir  Joshua's  idealized  portrait  as  an 
instance  of  '  the  distinction  between  truth  and  a 
caricature  of  it.'  But  a  slight  caricature  is  often 
more  veracious  than  a  flattering  likeness;  and 
we  cannot  help  believing  that  the  'Haunch  of 
Venison'  drawing  presents  the  authentic  and 
everyday  Goldsmith  familiar  to  his  friends.  In 
any  case,  it  is  much  better  known  than  Brether- 
ton's  other  etching;  and  it  is  given  besides  on 


46  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

Kearsly's  title-page,  not  as  a  burlesque,  but  as  a 
'head.' 

Percy's  first  meeting  with  Goldsmith  in  Feb- 
ruary 1759  took  place  at  the  old  Temple  Ex- 
change CofFee-house,  near  Temple  Bar,  whence, 
by  the  way,  Goldsmith  had  written  his  letter  to 
Bob  Bryanton  of  Ballymulvey.    Here  they  were 
both  guests  of  Percy's  early  friend,  Dr.  James 
Grainger  of  the  '  Sugar  Cane,'  Goldsmith's  col- 
league   on    the    'Monthly  Review.'    They  met 
again  at  Dodsley's  on  the  26th  ;  and  in  a  day  or 
two  (3rd  March)  Percy  paid  that  historical  call 
at  12,  Green  Arbour  Court,  Little  Old  Bailey, 
which  is  in  all  the  biographies.  Two  years  later, 
on   25th  May  1761,  Percy  visited  Goldsmith  at 
6,  Wine  Office  Court  (which    by  a  slip   of  the 
pen   he    calls  Wine   Licence   Court) ;  and    they 
afterwards  inspected  the  paintings  at  the  Great 
Room    in    Spring    Garden,    where    they    must 
have  seen   Hogarth's  famous  'Sigismunda'  and 
'  Gate  of  Calais.'    Percy  is  also  alleged  to  have 
given    Goldsmith    some    material    for    a    maga- 
zine he  was  editing.     But  it  can  scarcely  have 
been,    as     suggested,    the    'Monthly    Review,' 
which  he  never  edited,  and  had  long  ceased  to 
write    in ;    and    it    must    have    been   either    the 
'British'  or  the  'Lady's  Magazine,'  with  which 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  47 

he  was  at  this  date  connected.  Six  days  later 
(31st  May)  both  Percy  and  Johnson  visited 
Goldsmith  together.  Here  again  the  meeting  is 
historical;  and  Percy  adds  to  his  memorandum 
of  the  incident:  'N.B. — This  is  the  first  visit 
Johnson  ever  made  to  Goldy.'  It  is  further 
stated  that  during  June  1761  Percy  frequently 
saw  Goldsmith,  '  who  was  then  engaged  in 
writing  his  "Vicar  of  Wakefield."  '  If  there  is 
Percy's  warranty  for  this  last  particular,  it  is  a 
material  confirmation  of  the  conclusion,  already 
arrived  at  by  internal  evidence,  that  Goldsmith's 
novel  was  being  composed  in  1 761-2,  in  the 
October  of  which  latter  year  a  third  share  in  it 
was  sold  to  Benjamin  Collins,  the  Salisbury 
printer. 

Miss  Gaussen  prints  two  unpublished  letters 
from  Goldsmith  to  the  Percys.  One,  undated, 
but  obviously  written  in  or  after  1768,  is  a  simple 
notelet  asking  Mrs.  Percy  for  two  masquerade 
tickets,  in  which  his  eagerness  leads  him  into 
grammatical  confusion ;  the  other  precedes  a 
projected  visit  to  Easton  Maudit,  Percy's  North- 
ampton vicarage,  a  visit  which,  most  probably, 
was  never  paid.  They  must  have  offered  him  the 
use  of  a  room  in  their  absence,  for  he  asks 
whether  there  are  any  prying,  troublesome  neigh- 


48  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

hours;  whether  there  is  a  coach  down,  and  the 
fare;  whether  he  can  take  his  books  (which  looks 
as  if  he  was  engaged  on  the  'Animated  Nature'); 
whether  he  can  get  milk,  meat,  tea,  and  coals  in 
the  place — and  so  forth.  In  1763-4-5  Percy 
sees  him  frequently  at  Islington,  and  in  his  first 
lodgings  on  the  Library  Staircase  in  the  Temple. 
In  1768  Percy  is  at  the  first  night  (29th  January) 
of  'The  Good  Natur'd  Man,'  and  he  was  also  at 
the  ninth,  or  third  author's  night.  Then  a  passing 
estrangement  took  place  between  them  over  the 
Chatterton  forgeries,  in  which  Goldsmith  fer- 
vently believed. 

We  get  glimpses  again  of  Percy's  visiting 
Goldsmith  at  Edgware,  where  he  was  writing  his 
Natural  History,  and  at  his  last  home  in  Brick 
Court.  Here,  on  21st  September  1772,  Percy 
found  him  very  ill  in  bed,  and  already  resorting  to 
Dr.  James's  Fever  Powders.  He  was  present,  in 
January  1773,  when  Goldsmith  read  'She  Stoops 
to  Conquer '  to  the  Club,  the  play  then  bearing 
the  name  of  'The  Old  House,  a  New  Inn ';  and 
he  subsequently  attended  not  only  a  rehearsal, 
but  also  that  famous  first  night,  for  an  account 
of  which  his  biographer,  we  think,  relies  perhaps 
too  exclusively  on  the  romanced  recollections  of 
Richard  Cumberland.    He  went    again    on    the 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  49 

fourth  night,  having  a  seat  in  the  Northumber- 
land box.  Here  are  the  last  of  Percy's  Goldsmith 
memoranda : 

Thursday,  loth  March  [1774].  'Dr.  Gold- 
smith called  on  me — we  dined  together  at  the 
Turk's  Head  in  Gerrard  Street:   tete-a-tete^ 

'Monday,  28th  March,  I  called  on  Dr.  Gold- 
smith whom  I  found  ill  of  a  fever.' 

'Sunday,  3rd  April,  I  saw  poor  Dr.  Gold- 
smith, who  was  dangerously  ill.  He  just  knew 
me.' 

'  Monday,  4th  April,  I  went  into  Sussex.  Poor 
Dr.  Goldsmith  died  this  day:  having  been  in 
convulsions  all  night.  On  my  return,  on  Satur- 
day, 9th  April,  I  saw  poor  Goldsmith's  coffin; 
he  was  buried  that  day  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
Temple  Church.' 

In  the  foregoing  brief  recapitulation  of  the  re- 
lations of  Percy  and  Goldsmith,  one  incident  has 
been  designedly  reserved  for  this  place.  After 
Chatterton's  death  in  1770,  Goldsmith  'one  rainy 
day'  called  on  Percy  at  Northumberland  House, 
and  begged  him  to  become  his  biographer.  He 
dictated  to  Percy  '  many  interesting  particulars 
relating  to  his  life,'  with  dates,  and  he  subse- 
quently handed  to  him  several  pieces  in  manu- 
script '  among  a  parcel  of  letters  and  papers,  some 

£ 


50  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

written  by  himself,  and  some  addressed  to  him, 
with  not  much  explanation.'  What  ensued  must 
always  be  regarded  as  a  painful  story  of  dilatory 
dealing.  For  one  reason  or  another,  at  Goldsmith's 
death,  four  years  later,  Percy  had  done  nothing. 
Next  came  a  scheme  for  a  Life  by  Johnson,  and 
an  edition  of  Goldsmith's  works.  Difficulties 
however  arose  concerning  the  inclusion  of  'She 
Stoops  to  Conquer.'  Johnson,  obstructed  at  the 
outset,  speedily  forgot  all  about  the  matter;  and 
what  was  worse,  lost  many  of  the  papers  lent  to 
him  by  Percy.  Malone,  who  jackalled  for  him, 
lost  others.  Ten  years  afterwards,  under  a  galvanic 
impulse  of  compassion  for  Goldsmith's  starving 
relatives,  Percy  hastily  issued  proposals  for  an 
edition  of  Goldsmith's  '  Miscellaneous  Writings.' 
In  the  leisurely  collection  of  material  more  time 
elapsed ;  but  nothing  was  effected  towards  the 
preparation  of  a  biography.  Then  Dr.  Thomas 
Campbell,  rector  of  Clones  in  Monaghan,  offered 
his  services  as  editor  of  what  had  been  brought 
together.  From  the  spring  of  1 790  to  the 
autumn  of  1791  he  was  engaged  on  his  task. 
His  outline  memoir  was  then  submitted  to  the 
Bishop,  who  decorated  it  with  copious  notes, 
which  were  afterwards  worked  into  the  text  by  his 
chaplain,  Dr.  Henry  Boyd,  the  translator  of  Dante, 


Percy  and  Goldsmith  5 1 

who  also  touched  up  Campbell's  style.  This  took 
two  more  years.  In  1795  Campbell  died;  vexa- 
tious disputes  arose  with  the  trade  as  to  the  exact 
proportion  of  the  profits  which  were  to  go  to 
Goldsmith's  representatives;  and  1796  arrived 
'  with  everything  still  unsettled.'  By  this  date 
Goldsmith  had  been  dead  for  more  than  one  and 
twenty  years!  When  at  length  an  unsatisfactory 
arrangement  was  made  with  the  booksellers,  to 
whom  (in  the  words  of  George  Steevens)  Gold- 
smith's works  had  all  along  been  '  staple  com- 
modities,' and  a  new  editor  had  been  appointed 
in  the  person  of  Cowper's  friend,  Samuel  Rose, 
fresh  complications  took  place.  Finally  Percy, 
who  now  discovered  that  he  '  had  particular 
reasons  for  not  being  himself  Goldsmith's  osten- 
sible biographer,'  withdrew  altogether  from  the 
scheme;  and  in  1801  the  much-manipulated 
'Memoir'  was  issued,  without  his  concurrence, 
at  the  head  of  four  volumes  of  Goldsmith's 
'Miscellaneous  Works.'  The  gain  to  Goldsmith's 
relatives,  few  of  whom  were  then  alive,  proved 
not  only  belated,  but  contemptible. 

That  Percy  and  Johnson  should  have  so  mis- 
managed and  neglected  a  labour  of  love  which 
either  could  have  performed  with  special  advant- 
ages, is  deplorable.  But  there  are  compensations. 


52  Percy  and  Goldsmith 

We  can  scarcely  regret  the  circumstances  which 
prompted  the  conscientious  labours  of  Prior  and 
Forster,  and  attracted  the  kindred  pen  of  Wash- 
ington Irving.  To-day  we  probably  know  a  great 
deal  more  of  Oliver  Goldsmith  than  was  ever 
known  to  the  editor  of  the  'Reliques'  or  the 
author  of  *Rasselas.' 


MR.  CRADOCK  OF  GUMLEY 

DELASSONS-NOUS  un  peu  a  parler  de 
M.  de  Pontmartin,'  says  Sainte-Beuve,  at 
the  outset  of  a  causerie.  Not  that  there  is  any 
connection  between  M.  de  Pontmartin  and  the 
subject  of  this  paper;  nor — let  us  hasten  to  add — 
between  its  writer  and  the  keenest  and  finest  of 
French  literary  critics.  But  '  Mr.  Cradock  of 
Gumley  '  has  been  continually  turning  up  of  late 
— in  Boswell,  in  Forster's  *  Goldsmith,'  in  Miss 
Gaussen's  '  Percy,'  with  an  air  that  indirectly  in- 
vites recognition  ;  and  to  '  relax  oneself  a  little ' 
seems  the  proper  spirit  in  which  to  approach  an 
individuality  more  curious  than  instructive — more 
amiable  than  illustrious.  For  Cradock,  it  must  be 
confessed,  was  not  a  person  of  supreme  distinction 
in  letters.  To  have  adapted  a  tragedy  by  Voltaire, 
which  Voltaire  himself  came  to  stigmatize  as  *  un 
ouvrage  fort  mddiocre  ';  to  have  written  an  '  epis- 
tolary novel '  on  the  lines  of  the  '  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field,' with  digressions  about  landscape  gardening; 
and  to  have  compassed  sundry  prologues,  epi- 
logues and  occasional  verses,  none  very  remark- 

53 


54  Mr.  Cradock  of  Giunley 

able: — these  things  are  scarcely  qualifications  for 
a  trip  in  Goldsmith's  '  Fame  Machine,'  even 
though  it  should  be  added  that  their  author,  in 
his  eighty-third  year,  published  'with  a  most 
flattering  reception,'  a  five-act  historical  play  'on 
the  subject  of  the  Czar.'  But  if  he  was  not  the 
rose,  he  had  lived  in  her  vicinity.  A  country 
gentleman  of  good  fortune  and  a  local  magnate; 
liberally  educated;  of  cultivated  tastes;  a  mu- 
sician, a  clever  amateur  actor,  and  a  traveller  in 
France  before  the  Revolution,  he  also  took  an 
enthusiastic  interest  in  the  notabilities  of  his  day. 
He  knew  Johnson  and  most  of  his  circle;  he  was 
well  acquainted  with  Garrick  and  Foote — with 
Mrs.  Yates  and  Mrs.  Gibber;  he  had  mixed  with 
people  as  different  from  each  other  as  Bishop 
Hurd  and  'Jemmy  Twitcher' — as  Otaheitan 
Omai  and  Laurence  Shirley,  Earl  Ferrers.  Con- 
cerning not  a  few  of  these  he  has  left  anecdotes 
in  his  '  Memoirs,'  anecdotes  which  have  found  a 
permanent  place  in  several  authoritative  bio- 
graphies. It  is  therefore  a  permissible,  and  even  a 
pardonable  delassement  to  linger  for  a  moment 
among  the  very  miscellaneous  recollections  of 
'  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley.' 

His  'Memoirs,'  which  were  printed  in  1826-8, 
make   four  volumes,   two  published  in  his  life- 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Guviky  55 

time,  two  posthumous.  The  first,  which  is  auto- 
biographical, and  the  last,  which  supplements 
and  illustrates  the  first,  are  the  most  interesting, 
the  intermediate  numbers  being  mainly  occupied 
by  his  works  and  travels.'  He  was  born  on 
9th  January  1742,  at  Leicester,  and  went  to  the 
grammar  school  there.  He  lost  his  mother  early; 
and  when  he  was  about  seventeen,  his  father  also 
died,  leaving  him  ample  means.  As  a  boy  he  had 
been  taken  in  his  holidays  to  Bath  and  other 
places,  where  he  had  already  developed  a  native 
taste  for  the  stage ;  and  in  a  later  visit  to  Scar- 
borough during  his  minority,  he  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Sterne  and  the  Gibbers.  Then,  as 
a  preliminary  to  the  University,  he  was  placed 
at  Mackworth  in  Derby  with  a  private  tutor, 
who  was  secretly  a  red-hot  Jacobite.  Soon  after 
the  Coronation  of  George  III  (22nd  September 
1 761),  of  which  he  was  a  spectator,  he  went  into 
residence  at  Emmanuel  College,  Cambridge,  His 
turn  was  for  declamation  (or  '  spouting  '  as  it  was 
called)  rather  than  mathematics;  and  he  had  little 

^  A  fuller  edition  in  four  volumes,  with  a  Memoir  by  one 
ot  Cradock's  executors,  John  Bowyer  Nichols,  the  printer 
and  antiquary,  was  issued  in  1 8  28.  By  the  kindness  of  Mr. 
Percy  Fitzgerald,  we  have  been  favoured  with  a  copy  of  this, 
to  which  many  MSS.,  illustrations,  etc.,  have  been  added. 


56  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gum  ley 

hope  of  his  bachelor's  degree  when  he  left  the 
University  for  London,  where,  in  1765,  he  was 
married  at  St.  George's,  Bloomsbury,  to  Miss 
Anna  Francesca  Stratford,  a  young  lady  of  War- 
wickshire, at  that  time  resident  with  her  grand- 
mother in  Great  Ormond  Street.  This  event 
was  almost  immediately  succeeded  by  the  gift 
from  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  Chancellor  of  the 
University,  of  a  Royal  Degree  of  Master  of  Arts. 
Cradock's  town  residence  was  in  Dean  Street, 
Soho,  an  accident  which  later  procured  him,  in 
absentia^  the  further  distinction  of  having  his 
windows  broken  by  the  mob  in  consequence  of 
his  neglect  to  illuminate  on  Wilkes's  birthday 
(17th  October).*  For  this  expensive  privilege, 
which  piled  his  drawing-room  with  broken  glass 
and  cobble-stones,  he  consoled  himself  by  com- 
posing a  brief  biography  of  the  popular  dema- 
gogue '  in  the  manner  of  Plutarch  ' — zjeu  d^esprit 
which  was  promptly  communicated  to  theDuke  of 
Grafton,  and  (we  are  informed  mysteriously)  was 
'  not  ungraciously  received  in  a  higher  quarter.' 

'  These  were  apparently  not  'birthday  honours'  alone. 
'  Here  were  .  .  .  most  of  the  windows  in  town  broke,  that 
had  no  lights  for  Wilkes  and  Liberty,  who  were  thought  to 
be  inseparable'  (Chesterfield's  'Letters,'  1774,  ii,  529, 
under  date  of  12th  April  1768). 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Guniley  57 

A  disregard  for  dates  is  the  natural  corollary 
to  a  dislike  for  mathematics.  When  Cradock 
went  to  live  in  Dean  Street,  we  are  not  told ;  but 
he  must  have  been  some  years  in  London  in 
1773,  when  a  second  edition  of  the  Wilkes 
pamphlet  was  published.  During  this  period  he 
was  no  doubt  assiduously  cultivating  his  taste  for 
music  and  the  drama;  assembling  what  ultim- 
ately grew  into  a  splendid  library,  and  improving 
his  Leicestershire  property.  He  tells  us  that  after 
the  above  occurrence,  he  surrendered  the  lease  of 
his  town  house,  though  but  for  the  date  1773, 
we  should  have  no  inkling  when.  We  hear 
vaguely  of  his  being  Sheriff  of  Leicester;  of  his 
organizing  musical  performances  as  steward  of 
Leicester  Infirmary;  and  he  was  also  Deputy 
Lieutenant  for  the  county.  In  these  circum- 
stances, it  will  be  most  convenient  to  set  down  at 
once  the  leading  events  of  his  life  subsequent  to 
his  marriage,  and  afterwards  to  group  under  their 
respective  classes  a  selection  from  the  more  in- 
teresting of  his  records.  In  1768  he  became  an 
F.S.A. ;  and  in  1769  took  part  in  the  Stratford 
Jubilee.  *  Zobeide,'  his  Voltaire  tragedy,  was 
produced  in  1771;  his  Richardson-cum-Gold- 
smith  novelette,  'Village  Memoirs,'  in  1774. 
He    travelled  in   North    Wales    in    1776-7;    in 


58  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley 

1783-6,  in  France  and  Holland.  His  wife  died 
in  1816.  In  1821  he  published  'Fidelia;  or, 
The  Prevalence  of  Fashion,'  another  tale  against 
duelling  and  gaming.  Two  years  later  his  estate 
having  become  encumbered,  and  his  means  being 
reduced  to  a  moderate  annuity,  he  settled  in 
London,  where,  after  printing  '  The  Czar,'  and 
preparing  the  first  two  volumes  of  his  '  Memoirs ' 
for  the  press,  he  died  on  15th  December  1826, 
in  his  eighty-fifth  year,  and  was  buried  in  the 
vault  of  St.  Mary-le-Strand,  near  which  he  had 
spent  his  latter  days. 

Mr.  Cradock's  bias,  even  as  a  boy,  had  been 
stagewards,  and  with  his  theatrical  reminiscences 
we  may  begin.  Of  some  of  the  older  luminaries, 
however,  he  could  say  no  more  than  v'ldi  tantum. 
Quin,  for  example,  he  had  met  once  or  twice  at 
Bath  in  company  with  that  actor's  close  ally,  the 
parodist  Hawkins  Browne.  But  Quin,  who  died 
in  1766,  the  year  after  Cradock's  marriage,  had 
then  long  retired  from  the  stage;  and  was  sub- 
sisting in  the  Queen  of  the  West  chiefly  upon 
his  social  qualities.  In  1766,  too,  died  another 
member  of  the  old  regime,  Mrs.  Cibber.  Cradock 
greatly  appreciated  this  actress,  whom  Garrick 
reckoned  the  rightful  queen  of  tragedy,  and  he 
adds  his  testimony  to  her  supremacy.    '  She  was 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley  59 

charming  in  every  part  she  undertook,'  he  says; 
*  but  she  appeared  to  be  identified  with  the 
melancholy  fair  Ophelia ' — a  sentiment  which 
after  her  death  he  enforced  in  verse.  He  seems 
also  to  have  known  her  accomplished  and  ec- 
centric brother,  Dr.  Arne,  of  whose  catch, 
'  Buzz,  quoth  the  Blue  Fly,'  he  was  an  ardent 
admirer.  Mrs.  Clive,  who,  in  1769,  like  the 
lady  in  the  *  Bab  Ballads '  '  grew  bulky,  and 
quitted  the  stage,'  he  mentions,  but  cannot  have 
known  intimately.  His  chief  acquaintances,  on 
coming  to  town,  were  the  members  of  the 
Theatrical  Club  which  then  met  at  Wright's 
Coffee  House,  in  York  Street,  Covent  Garden. 
Among  these  he  speaks  of  Charles  Holland, 
whom  Churchill  called  '  Garrick  at  second  hand,' 
and  William  Powell,  who,  but  for  his  premature 
death,  promised  really  to  rival  the  same  great 
man.  Closer,  however,  for  a  time  than  with 
cither  of  these  were  his  relations  with  Samuel 
Foote,  soon  to  be  manager  of  the  Little  Theatre 
in  the  Haymarket,  once  memorable  for  the 
satiric  successes  of  Fielding.  Cradock  claims  to 
have  called  the  attention  of  Foote  to  a  story  in 
the  '  Diable  Boiteux  '  of  Lesage  '  as  a  good  sub- 
ject for  stage  buffoonery.'  Foote  at  first  ridiculed 
Lesage  and  the  suggestion;   but  subsequently  re- 


6o  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley 

membered  both  in  one  of  his  most  popular  and 
most  lucrative  efforts,  'The  Devil  upon  Two 
Sticks.'  Cradock,  in  some  sort,  may  be  said  to 
have  returned  the  compliment,  since  he  makes 
the  maleficent  influence  in  his '  Village  Memoirs ' 
one  of  those  Indian  parvenus  whom  Foote  pre- 
sently pilloried  so  successfully  in  the  comedy  of 
'  The  Nabob.' 

Not  very  many  months  before  the  appearance 
of 'The  Nabob,'  Cradock  himself,  by  the  good 
offices  of  Mrs.  Yates,  had  made  his  debut  as  a 
dramatist.  In  1767,  Voltaire,  then  a  septuagen- 
arian, had  produced,  in  his  little  private  theatre 
at  Ferney,  a  five-act  tragedy  called  '  Les  Scythes,' 
which  he  had  written  very  rapidly,  and  acted  in 
himself.'  It  was  no  great  success,  for  his  powers 
were  manifestly  declining;  and  he  was  wise 
enough  not  to  attempt  to  re-model  it.  When  he 
printed  it,  however,  he  spoke  of  it  in  his '  Preface ' 
as  a  sketch  which  some  younger  man  might  work 
up.    Cradock,  into  whose  hands  it  came,  under- 

'  Gibbon  has  described  Voltaire's  acting  four  years 
earlier.  He  thought  him  'a  very  ranting  unnatural  per- 
former'; but  adds,  'Perhaps  I  was  too  much  struck  with  the 
ridiculous  figure  of  Voltaire  at  seventy,  acting  a  Tartar 
Conqueror  with  a  hollow  broken  voice,  and  making  love  to 
a  very  ugly  niece  of  about  fifty.'    ('Corr.,'  1896,  I,  43.) 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley  6i 

took  this  venture.  He  translated  it;  altered  it 
considerably  throughout,  especially  in  the  fourth 
and  fifth  acts,  and  changed  the  citle  to  '  Zobeide  ' 
— Voltaire's  heroine  being  Obeide.  He  showed 
it  to  Mrs.  Yates,  who  expressed  a  desire  to  under- 
take the  leading  female  character.  Thereupon 
the  flattered  and  politic  author  promptly  offered 
her  the  piece  for  her  benefit,  with  the  result  that 
it  was  brought  out  at  Covent  Garden  in  the 
December  of  177 1.  It  was  acted  thirteen  nights, 
which  may  be  regarded  as  a  success — at  all 
events  d'estbne.  To  analyse  the  plot — or,  as 
Arthur  Murphy  put  it  in  his  Epilogue — to 

Ramble  with  Voltaire  to  Eastern  climes. 
To  Scythian  laws  and  antiquated  times, 

is  needless.  The  Prologue  was  supplied  by 
Goldsmith,  who  took  care  to  accentuate  the  fact 
that  the  author  was  no  '  mercenary  trader.'  But 
the  crown  of  Cradock's  satisfaction  must  have 
been  the  acknowledgment  which  reached  him, 
two  years  later,  from  the  only  begetter  of  the 
piece,  to  whom  he  sent  a  printed  copy : 

96  8^'e  1773,  a  ferney. 

Thanks  to  y""  muse  a  foreign  copper  shines 
Turned  in  to  gold,  and  coin'd  in  sterling  lines. 


62  Mr.  Cradock  of  Guinley 

You  have  done  to  much  honour  to  an  old  sick  man  of 
eighty. 

I  am  vith  the  most  sincere  esteem  and  gratitude, 
S""  yr  ob'"  Serv'  Voltaire. 

Cradock  should  have  known  Mrs.  Yates  pretty 
well,  for  he  speaks  of  having,  at  Lady  Rochford's, 
acted  Jaffier  to  her  Belvidera  in  'Venice  Pre- 
serv'd,'  With  the  exception  of  the  aforementioned 
'  Czar,'  '  Zobeide '  seems  to  have  been  his  soli- 
tary essay  as  a  playwright.  '  Zobeide,'  however, 
brings  us  back  again  to  Foote,  in  whose  '  Piety 
in  Pattens '  both  Mrs.  Yates  and  Cradock  were 
burlesqued.  As  the  libretto  of  Foote's  '  primitive 
puppet-show'  was  never  printed,  it  is  difficult 
to  say  exactly  in  what  the  oral  burlesque  con- 
sisted, though,  according  to  Cradock,  it  found 
no  favour  with  the  audience.  Yet  regarded  as 
a  happy  contribution  to  the  campaign  against 
Sentimental  Comedy,  that  '  mawkish  drab  of 
spurious  breed,'  ^  imported  from  France,  whom 

'  Not  many  weeks  before,  Goldsmith  had  defined  senti- 
mental comedy  as  '  a  kind  of  mulish  production,  with  all 
the  defects  of  its  opposite  parents,  and  marked  with 
sterility/  Like  others  of  his  good  things,  this  seems  to  be 
no  more  than  a  neat  resetting  of  an  earlier  dictum.  Vol- 
taire (Preface  to  'Nanine')  calls  Romanesque  comedy 
'  une  espece  batarde  .  .  .  nee  de  Vimpuissance  de  faire  une 
comedie  et  une  tragedie  'veritable^''  (i6  June  1749). 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Guniley  6 


0 


Kelly  and  Cumberland  had  made  popular,  and 
Goldsmith  had  combated  in  the  '  Good-Natur'd 
Man,'  Foote's  entertainment  deserves  to  be  re- 
membered. Modelled  on  the  popular  Panton 
Street  marionettes,  it  was  acted  entirely  by 
wooden  puppets — 'not  much  larger  than  Gar- 
rick,'  Foote  maliciously  told  an  inquisitive  lady 
of  quality;  and  it  purported  to  exhibit  the  for- 
tunes of  a  'handsome  housemaid,'  a  combination 
of  Pamela  and  Mrs.  Yates,  *who,  by  the  mere 
effects  of  morality  and  virtue,  raised  herself  to 
riches  and  honours.'  Foote  emphasized  his  at- 
tack on  the  reigning  '  moral  essay  in  dialogue  ' 
by  a  humorous  preliminary  address  in  which  he 
made  his  purpose  clear;  and  this  has  fortunately 
been  preserved.  After  sketching  the  origin  and 
progress  of  puppet  shows,  he  wound  up  by  saying 
that  the  audience  would  not  discover  much  wit 
and  humour  in  his  new  piece,  since  'his  brother 
authors  had  all  agreed  that  it  was  highly  improper, 
and  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  mixed  assembly,  to 
show  any  signs  of  joyful  satisfaction ;  and  that 
creating  a  laugh  was  forcing  the  higher  order  of 
an  audience  to  a  vulgar  and  mean  use  of  their 
muscles ' — for  which  reason,  he  explained,  he  had, 
like  them,  given  up  the  sensual  for  the  senti- 
mental style.     The    first   representation    of   the 


64  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley 

'primitive  puppet  show'  took  place  on  15th 
February,  just  a  month  before  Goldsmith's  'She 
Stoops  to  Conquer '  came  out  at  Covent  Garden ; 
and  to  Foote  therefore  belongs  the  credit  of 
having  effectively  'scotched'  the  sentimental 
snake,  upon  which  Goldsmith  and  Sheridan  were 
to  do  further,  if  not  final,  execution.  According 
to  Cradock,  both  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  were 
earmarked  for  burlesque  in  Foote's  entertainment; 
but  a  timely  announcement  by  the  '  Leviathan 
of  Literature '  in  Tom  Davies's  back  parlour 
touching  his  fixed  intention  to  provide  himself 
with  a  retributive  big  stick,  effectually  averted 
the  proposed  indignity.  To  Cradock  Foote  made 
some  doubtful  apology;  but  either  by  accident  or 
design,  they  met  no  more. 

With  Garrick — who,  by  the  way,  did  not 
wholly  escape  the  lash  of  the  English  Aristophanes 
— Cradock  was  fairly  familiar.  He  was  introduced 
to  him  as  early  as  1761,  when  he  was  acting,  or 
preparing  to  act,  the  part  of  Oakly,  the  husband 
in  Colman's  '  Jealous  Wife,'  a  play  which,  bor- 
rowing some  details  from  Fielding,  deserves  the 
credit  of  partially  anticipating  '  The  Clandestine 
Marriage'  in  its  attempt  to  retain  those  old  comic 
constituents  of  comedy  which  the  sentimental 
craze  was  thrusting  into  the  background.    On  the 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Guniky  65 

strength  of  this  introduction,  Cradock,  a  year  or 
two  later,  persuaded  Garrick  and  his  wife  to  visit 
him  at  Gumley,  on  which  occasion  he  offered  up 
a  pair  of  ancestral  carp  to  his  distinguished  guests. 
When,  in  1766,  'The  Clandestine  Marriage' 
was  produced,  the  part  of  Lord  Ogleby,  which 
Garrick  affirmed  he  had  taken  from  a  Norfolk 
original,  was  —  as  is  well  known — admirably 
presented  by  that  prince  of  stage  old  men, 
Thomas  King.  Garrick,  nevertheless,  while 
doing  full  justice  to  King's  reading,  protested 
privately  that  it  was  not  his  (/.^.,  the  author's) 
Lord  Ogleby ;  and  proposed  that  the  play  should 
be  acted  in  the  provinces,  when  Cradock,  who 
somewhat  resembled  him  in  face  and  figure,  and 
of  whose  histrionic  abilities  he  had  satisfied  him- 
self, was  to  double  '  the  character  of  the  pert  valet 
Brush  with  that  of  Sir  John  Melvil,  while  he 
(Roscius,  to  wit)  gave  the  true  copy  of  the  super- 

*  In  another  part  of  his  record,  Cradock  says  he  was  to 
take  three  characters,  and  the  place  of  acting  was  to  be  the 
first  Lord  Holland's  '  Formian  Villa '  at  Kingsgate  in  Kent. 
This  was  burned  down  soon  after,  prompting  the  (for 
Gray)  ferocious  impromptu,  beginning  : 

'  Old,  and  abandoned  by  each  venal  friend, 

Here  Holland  formed  the  pious  resolution 
To  smuggle  a  few  years,  and  strive  to  mend 
A  broken  character  and  constitution.' 
F 


66  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley 

annuated  beau.  The  comedy  was  to  alternate 
with  a  tragedy,  '  Hamlet,'  in  which  Cradock  was 
to  assume  the  title-role,  and  Garrick  was  to  take 
the  Ghost,  as  he  had  done  for  Holland's  benefit. 
All  this,  for  obscure  reasons,  came  to  naught. 
But  Cradock's  contemplated  functions  in  the 
scheme  certainly  justify  his  recording  (in  capitals) 
that  '  Garrick  spoke  with  great  satisfaction  of  my 
acting,'  which — it  should  perhaps  be  added — 
was,  like  Holland's  and  Powell's,  closely  imitated 
from  Garrick's  own.  '  From  frequently  reading 
with,  and  attending  Garrick  (says  Cradock),  I 
became  a  very  exact  copyist  'j  and  he  goes  on  to 
say  that  another  frustrate  scheme  was  that,  in 
honour  of  Garrick  and  Johnson,  he  should  play 
Archer  in  the  'Beaux'  Stratagem'  at  Lichfield, 
where  the  scene  of  the  comedy  is  laid.  This — 
according  to  Cradock — was  the  historic  occasion 
on  which  Goldsmith  expressed  a  desire  to  act  the 
part  of  Scrub. 

Cradock,  as  we  have  said,  attended  the  Stratford 
Jubilee  in  1769,  when,  in  the  guise  of  Garter 
King-at-Arms,  he  had  the  honour  of  dancing  a 
minuet  with  Mrs.  Garrick.  He  was  also  present 
at  some  of  Garrick's  farewell  performances — e.g.^ 
of 'Lear' and  of 'Richard  IIL'  The  actor's  health 
was  then  failing,  and  his  physical  infirmities  made 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Gmnley  67 

the  latter  assumption  especially  trying.  '  I  dread 
the  fight  and  the  fall,'  he  said.  '  I  am  afterwards 
in  agonies.'  But  he  had  '  gained  his  fame  by 
Richard,'  and  was  determined  '  to  end  with  it.' 
Nevertheless,  though  he  astonished  King  George 
by  the  activity  with  which  he  ran  about  the  field, 
hewas  eventuallyobliged  to  make  his  adieux  in  the 
less  arduous  part  of  Don  Felix  in  '  The  Wonder.' 
This  Cradock  did  not  see.  Cradock  tells  a  good 
many  other  anecdotes  of  Garrick,  but  we  can  only 
find  room  for  one,  which,  besides  being  character- 
istic of  an  amiable  weakness,  is  also  less  known 
than  some  of  the  rest.  Once,  when  Cradock  was 
a  guest  at  St.  James's  CofFee-house — it  was  on 
the  memorable  occasion  when  Johnson,  retorting 
to  Burke's  unwelcome  comment  on  his  appetite, 
said,  '  There  is  a  time  of  life.  Sir,  when  a  man 
requires  the  repairs  of  a  table  ' — Garrick  arrived 
very  late.  He  '  came  in,  full  dressed,  made  many 
apologies  for  being  so  much  later  than  he  intended, 
but  he  had  been  unexpectedly  detained  at  the 
House  of  Lords,  and  Lord  Camden  had  absolutely 
insisted  upon  setting  him  down  at  the  door  of  the 
hotel  in  his  own  carriage.  Johnson  said  nothing, 
but  he  looked  a  volume.' 

A  passage  in  Boswell  effectively  supports  this 
little  story,  both  as  regards  Garrick's  relations  to 


68  Mr.  Cradock  of  Guniley 

Camden,  and  Johnson's  attitude  to  each.  Garrick 
had  invited  Boswell  to  breakfast,  and  on  his  arrival 
said  to  him:  'Pray  now,  did  you — did  you  meet 
a  little  lawyer  turning  the  corner,  eh?'  'No,  Sir' 
(said  Boswell).  'Pray  what  do  you  mean  by  the 
question  ?'  '  Why'  (replied  Garrick,  with  affected 
indifference, '  yet  as  if  standing  on  tiptoe'), '  Lord 
Camden  has  this  moment  left  me.  We  have  had 
a  long  walk  together.'  Boswell,  of  course,  hastened 
to  retail  this  to  Johnson,  whose  remorseless  com- 
ment was:  'Well,  Sir,  Garrick  talked  very  pro- 
perly. Lord  Camden  wai  a  little  lawyer  to  be 
associating  so  familiarly  with  a  player.'  Camden 
and  Garrick  were,  however,  genuinely  attached 
to  one  another;  and  when  Garrick  was  nearing 
his  last  days,  the  Lord  Chancellor  wrote  warmly 
of  their  long  connection,  and  of  his  continued  re- 
o;ard  for  his  theatrical  friend. 

Tried  by  the  rigid  chronological  tests  of  Dr. 
Birkbeck  Hill,  Cradock's  octogenarian  recollec- 
tions do  not  always  emerge  victoriously.  One  story 
of  Percy's  preaching  a  charity  sermon,  based  on 
the  fourth  of  Johnson's  'Idlers,'  and  then  sending 
Cradock  to  Johnson  to  explain  matters,  is  certainly 
discredited  if,  according  to  Dr.  Hill,  the  sermon 
was  preached  seven  years  before  Cradock  first  met 
Johnson  at  all.    As  to  that  first  meeting,  we  have 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley  6g 

fortunately  the  corroborative  testimony  of  Bos- 
well,  who  gives  us  what  Cradock  does  not,  the 
precise  date — I2th  April  1776.  Like  Boswell's 
own  first  interview,  it  took  place  at  Davies  the 
bookseller's  in  Russell  Street,  and  Boswell  was 
present.  Cradock  had  been  thoughtfully  fore- 
warned of  Johnson's  peculiarities,  and  particularly 
cautioned  not  to  commit  the  heinous  error  of 
quitting  the  dinner-table  prematurely  for  the  play. 
The  talk  ran  upon  tragedy  and  Aristotle.  Johnson 
was  unusually  brilliant — so  brilliant  that  (we  learn 
from  Boswell)  Cradock  whispered  to  his  neigh- 
bour, '  O  that  his  words  were  written  in  a  book  !' 
But,  under  opposition,  he  began  to  '  rear '  and 
wax  'loud,'  until  Cradock  judiciously  saved  the 
situation  by  taking  a  deferential  tone,  as  a  conse- 
quence of  which  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  being 
assured  in  a  whisper,  either  by  Davies  or  Boswell, 
that  he  was  safely  '  landed '  in  the  Doctor's  good 
graces. 

Fortunately,  many  of  Cradock's  anecdotes  are 
not  affected  by  the  time-touchstone,  and  being 
besides  in  agreement  with  Johnson's  known  habit 
of  mind,  are  less  open  to  suspicion.  The  great  man's 
barbarous  treatment  of  books,  for  example,  is  no 
controverted  thing.  Once  Cradock,  going  to  Bolt 
Court  with  Percy,  found  him  '  rolling  upon  the 


70  Mr.  Cradock  of  Guinley 

floor,'  surrounded  by  volumes,  which  had  just 
been  brought  to  him — an  incident  which  suggests 
the  ardour  of  the  student  rather  than  the  reverence 
of  the  bibliophile.  On  this  occasion  he  was  ab- 
sorbed by  'a  Runic  bible,'  which  must  also  have 
interested  Percy.  Readers  of  Mme.  D'Arblay  will 
recall  how  speedily  Garrick's  priceless  '  Petrarca ' 
pounced  over  the  Doctor's  head  during  a  fit  of 
abstraction;  and  another  story  here  relates  to  some 
works  perhaps  equally  dear  to  their  possessor. 
Calling  once  on  Garrick  in  Southampton  Street, 
Johnson  strayed  by  mischance  into  a  private 
cabinet  adjoining  the  study,  which  was  filled  with 
elegantly-clad  presentation  copies  of  novels  and 
light  literature.  He  '  read  first  a  bit  of  one,  then 
another,  and  threw  all  down ;  so  that  before  the 
host  arrived,  the  floor  was  strewed  with  splendid 
octavos.'  Garrick,  as  may  be  guessed,  was  *  ex- 
ceedingly angry';  but  Johnson,  always  pitiless  to 
the  petty  side  of  his  old  pupil,  only  said  magis- 
terially: 'I  was  determined  to  examine  some  of 
your  valuables,  which  I  find  consist  of  three  sorts 
— stuff.,  trash.,  and  nonsense.^  In  his  old  age,  from 
ill-health  and  the  growing  habit  of  procrastination, 
it  became  hazardous  to  entrust  him  with  anything 
rare  or  valuable.  This  was  the  case  with  a  volume 
of  MSB., '  magnificently  bound,'  which  contained 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley  y  i 

poems  by  James  I,  and  of  which  Cradock  had  pro- 
cured the  loan  from  Lord  Harborough.  Writing 
about  the  book  shortly  afterwards,  he  was  dis- 
mayed to  find  that  Johnson  had  no  recollection 
of  receiving  it.  But  George  Steevens,  whom 
Cradock  nervously  consulted  (and  who  rated  him 
soundly  for  lending  it),  suggested  that  it  might 
be  lying  perdu  in  a  mysterious  sealed  packet  then, 
to  his  knowledge,  under  Johnson's  inkstand.  And 
so, indeed,  it  proved.  When  Johnson  died, Cradock 
promptly  applied  to  theexecutors;  and  the  precious 
consignment  was  forthwith  discovered,  unopened, 
exactly  where  Steevens  had  detected  it  two  years 
earlier. 

At  Johnson's  death,  Cradock  was  on  the  Con- 
tinent, as  he  wrote  from  Marseilles.  When  start- 
ing on  his  travels  in  October  1783,  he  had  taken 
leave  of  his  old  friend,  who  was  visibly  touched. 
'  I  wish  I  could  accompany  you,'  he  had  said, '  for 
I  dread  the  efFects  of  this  climate  dviring  the 
ensuing  winter.'  Cradock  had  always  found  him 
civil;  and  'had  derived  from  him  numerous  ad- 
vantages.' 'Of  all  men  I  ever  knew' — he  says 
elsewhere — '  Dr.  Johnson  was  the  most  instruct- 
ive.' But  he  can  only  have  known  him  in  the 
later  years  of  his  life,  if  he  first  made  his  acquaint- 
ance at  Davies'  in  1776. 


72  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley 

There  are  but  two  more  references  to  Johnson 
that  need  be  borrowed  from  Cradock's  budget. 
Johnson,  it  will  be  remembered,  writing  to  Lang- 
ton  of  Percy's  '  Hermit  of  Warkworth'  in  March 
I77i,had  faintly  commendedit  as  'pretty  enough.' 
This  could  not,  however,  prevent  him  from 
mimicking  its  adoption  of  the  ballad  manner, 
made  popular  by  the  '  Reliques  ': 

I  put  iny  hat  upon  my  head, 

And  walked  into  the  Strand, 
And  there  I  met  another  man. 

With  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

'  Modern  imitations  of  ancient  ballads,'  says  Bos- 
well,  always  roused  his  ridicule;  but  that  this 
quatrain  was  directly  prompted  by  Percy  is  clear 
from  a  letter  of  Garrick  to  Cradock,  asking  him 
whether  he  had  seen  Johnson's  criticism  on  the 
'  Hermit.'  '  It  is  already  over  half  the  town  * — 
adds  this  irrepressible  scandal-monger.  Another 
Cradock  anecdote  is  preserved,  not  indeed  by  Cra- 
dock himself,  but  in  a  note  of  his  friend  Nichols. 
Once  Cradock  and  George  Steevens  accompanied 
Johnson  to  Marybone  Gardens  where  they  saw 
'  La  Serva  Padrona '  ('  The  Maid  Mistress  '),  a 
popular  musical  entertainment  translated  from  the 
Italian  of  Paisiello  by  Storace.  Steevens  thought 
the  scheme — an  old   fellow  cheated  and  deluded 


Mr.  Crndock  of  Gumley  "jt, 

by  his  servant — 'quite  foolish  and  unnatural.' 
Johnson  instantly  replied,  '  Sir,  it  is  not  unnatural^ 
it  is  a  scene  that  is  acted  in  my  family  every  day 
of  my  life.'  His  hearers  understood  him  to  refer, 
not  so  much  to  the  despotic  heroine  of  the  bur- 
letta,  as  to  the  perpetual  wrangling  of  his  tvi'o 
housekeepers  and  pensioners  at  Bolt  Court — his 
rival  Roxana  and  Statira,  as  he  grimly  styled  them 
after  Nat.  Lee's  termagants — Mrs.  Williams  and 
Mrs.  Desmoulins.  '  To-day  Mrs.  Williams  and 
Mrs.  Desmoulins  had  a  scold' — he  tells  Mrs. 
Thrale  in  October  1778 — 'Williams  was  going 
away,  but  I  bid  her  not  turn  tail^  and  she  came 
back,  and  rather  got  the  upper  hand.' 

During  his  connection  with  Johnson,  Cradock 
could  never  have  known  Goldsmith,  since  Gold- 
smith died  before  that  connection  began.  And  he 
knew  Goldsmith  for  even  a  shorter  time  than 
Johnson.  But  Cradock  was  only  twelve  years 
junior  to  the  author  of  the  '  Deserted  Village'; 
and  their  relations  were  probably  more  uncon- 
strained. Most  of  Cradock's  anecdotes  have  been 
adopted  by  Goldsmith's  biographers.  It  is  from 
Cradock  that  we  get  the  oft-cited  lament :  '  While 
you  are  nibbling  about  elegant  phrases,  I  am 
obliged  to  write  half  a  volume  ' ;  the  complacent : 
'  As  to  my  "  Hermit "  that  poem,  Cradock,  can- 


74  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley 

not  be  amended';  and,  above  all,  the  delightful 
proposition  for  improving  Gray's  '  Elegy '  by 
putting  out  *  an  idle  word  in  every  line.'  As  thus : 

The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  day, 

The  lowing  herd  winds  o'er  the  lea, 
The  ploughman  homeward  plods  his  way, — 

and  so  forth.  In  an  excellent  article  in  the 
'Edinburgh  Revievi^,' ^  Lord  Lytton  ingeniously 
exploded  this  piece  of  profanation  by  shearing 
dov^^n  Shakespeare's  '  gaudy,  babbling,  and  re- 
morseless day,'  on  the  same  principle,  to  a  bare 
'the  day.'  What  is  oddest — perhaps  one  should 
add,  most  human — about  Goldsmith's  criticism 
is,  that  his  own  '  Hermit '  above-mentioned  is 
itself  by  no  means  exempt  from  those  decorative 
superfluities  which — to  distinguish  them  from 
more  inevitable  adjuncts — are  usually  known  as 
"gradus"  epithets.  It  is  Cradock  also  who  is  re- 
sponsible for  what,  if  not  the  only,  is  perhaps  the 
most  unvarnished  statement  about  Goldsmith's 
unhappy  tendency  to  gaming.  'The  greatest 
fault  of  Dr.  Goldsmith,'  he  says,  'was,  that  if  he 
had  thirty  pounds  in  his  pocket,  he  would  go  into 
certain  companies  in  the  country,  and  in  hopes  of 
doubling  the  sum,  would  generally  return  to 
town  without  any  part  of  it.' 

1   Vol.  88  (1848),  p.  205. 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley  75 

Whether  Cradock  first  made  Goldsmith's  ac- 
quaintance through  the  Yates's,  or  through  Gold- 
smith's friend,  Lord  Clare  of  the  '  Haunch  of 
Venison,'  we  know  not.  But  the  acquaintance 
seems  to  have  been  cemented,  if  not  commenced, 
by  the  prologue  to  '  Zobeide,'  which  was  origin- 
ally written  for  Yates,  and  was  sent  to  Lord  Clare's 
Essex  seat  of  Gosfield  Hall,  where  Cradock  was 
staying.  A  few  weeks  later,  we  find  Goldsmith 
and  Cradock  collaborating  upon  another  work 
which  may  perhaps  owe  its  origin  to  Lord  Clare, 
the  '  Threnodia  Augustalis '  in  memory  of  his 
lordship's  'old  political  mistress  and  patron,'  the 
widow  of  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales.  Cradock 
apparently  rendered  Goldsmith  somevague  services 
in  the  musical  adaptation  of  this  very  occasional 
performance,  which  Chalmers  first  reprinted  in 
1 8 10  from  a  copy  given  by  its  author  to  Cradock. 
Cradock  also  claims  to  have  '  altered  '  *  She  Stoops 
to  Conquer' — a  pretension  which  must  be  taken 
with  a  qualifying  grainof  salt.  But  he  undoubtedly 
saw  it  before  it  was  in  type,  for  in  returning  it  to 
the  author  he  subjoined  'a  ludicrous  address  to 
the  Town  by  Tony  Lumpkin,'  which — much 
abridged — Goldsmith  added  to  the  printed  play 
with  the  note,  'This  came  too  late  to  be  Spoken.' 
Cradock,  however, describes  it  as  a  vc\trG.jeu(l''esprit^ 


1^  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley 

not  intended  for  the  public.  Whether  Goldsmith 
ever  actually  visited  Cradock  in  his  Leicester 
home  is  uncertain.  He  undoubtedly  proposed  to 
do  so.  *  I  am  determined,'  he  said, '  to  come  down 
into  the  country,  and  make  some  stay  with  you, 
and  I  will  build  you  an  ice-house.'  To  the  visit, 
Cradock  readily  assented;  but  met  the  rest  of  the 
suggestion  by  a  polite  circumlocution. 

Upon  another  occasion  Cradock  relates  how 
Goldsmith,  unwilling  to  return  prematurely  from 
Windsor,  enlisted  his  services  and  those  of  Percy 
to  correct  some  proofs  for  '  Animated  Nature.' 
Neither  of  them  knew  anything  of  birds,  Percy 
declaring  that  he  could  scarce  tell  a  goose  from  a 
swan ;  but  they  managed  to  accomplish  their  task 
respectably.  Cradock's  most  interesting  memories, 
however,  refer  to  a  period  not  long  before  Gold- 
smith's death,  when  his  health  was  broken,  and 
his  growing  embarrassments  were  preying  on  his 
spirits.  Already,  as  we  learn  from  Percy,  he  had 
been  seriously  ill  in  September  1772.  In  the 
autumn  of  the  year  following,  Cradock  came  to 
London,  and  saw  him  frequently  in  the  mornings. 
He  found  him  much  changed,  'and  at  times  very 
low.'  He  endeavoured  to  induce  him  to  publish 
'  The  Traveller '  and  '  The  Deserted  Village  '  by 
subscription,  with  notes — the  object  being  to  ob- 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Gum  ley  yy 

tain  some  immediate  and  much  needed  monetary 
relief  for  the  author — a  proposition  which,  he 
says,  Goldsmith  rather  suffered  than  encouraged. 
Goldsmith  showed  him  at  this  time  the  now  lost 
prospectus  of  his  projected  '  Dictionary  of  Arts 
and  Sciences,'  an  effort  which  he  himself  regarded 
as  belonging  to  his  best  work,  and  which,  if  we 
may  believe  Cradock,  must  have  been  characterized 
by  all  the  'inspired  common-sense'  which  dis- 
tinguishes the  '  Preface '  to  the  '  Survey  of  Ex- 
perimental Philosophy.'  The  day  before  Cradock 
left  town,  Goldsmith  dined  with  him  in  his 
Norfolk  Street  lodging;  but  took  little  of  the 
'  neat  repast '  which  had  been  sent  in  from  the 
famous  '  Crown  and  Anchor  '  in  the  Strand.  '  He 
endeavoured  to  talk  and  remark,  as  usual,  but  all 
was  force.'  When  they  parted  at  midnight  by 
the  Temple  Gate  it  was  for  the  last  time,  for 
Goldsmith's  death  was  not  far  off".  But  with  the 
Temple  is  connected  the  only  other  Goldsmith 
anecdote  we  shall  reproduce  from  his  Leicester- 
shire friend.  There  were  two  poor  Miss  Gunns, 
sisters  and  milliners,  at  the  corner  of  Temple 
Lane,  who  had  the  strongest  confidence  in  their 
Brick  Court  customer.  *0  Sir!' — they  told 
Cradock  '  most  feelingly  ' — '  sooner  persuade  him 
to  let  us  work  for  him,  gratis,  than  suffer  him  to 


yS  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley 

apply  to  any  other;  we  are  sure  that  he  will  pay 
us  if  he  can.'  Well  might  Johnson  exclaim : 
*  Was  ever  poet  so  trusted  before ! ' 

The  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  stories  form  the 
bulk  of  Cradock's  literary  recollections,  and  his 
references  to  other  contemporary  writers  are  few 
and  unimportant.  Sterne,  it  has  been  said,  he  had 
met  as  a  boy  at  Scarborough.  But  in  London  he 
could  have  seen  little  of  him,  for  Sterne  died  in 
1768,  and  is  only  once  mentioned  again.  *  He 
never  possessed  any  equal  spirits,'  writes  Cradock 
of  Yorick,  '  he  was  always  either  in  the  cellar  or 
the  garret.'  Knowing  that  Garrick  had  a  real 
regard  for  him,  Cradock  said  to  him  at  Drury 
Lane  Theatre  that  he  was  surprised  he  had  not 
undertaken  to  write  a  Comedy.  Sterne  *  seemed 
quite  struck,  and  after  a  pause,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  replied,  "  I  fear  I  do  not  possess  the  proper 
talent  for  it,  and  I  am  utterly  unacquainted  with 
the  business  of  the  stage."  '  As  Cradock  adds  that, 
at  this  time,  Sterne  was  in  difficulties,  we  may 
assume  the  date  to  have  been  1766,  when  he  had 
not  yet  recruited  his  fortunes  with  the  last  volume 
of  '  Tristram  Shandy,'  and  the  publication,  by 
subscription,  of  a  fresh  instalment  of  his  sermons. 
Apropos  of  '  Tristram,'  Cradock  tells  the  follow- 
ing, which  he  says  he  told  to  Sterne.  A  gentleman. 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley  79 

asking  for  an  amusing  book,  was  recommended  to 
try  the  philological '  Hermes  '  of  Fielding's  friend, 
James  Harris  of  Salisbury.  Conceiving  it  to  be  a 
novel,  he  could  make  no  more  of  it  than  the  old 
lady  who  found  the  story  in  Johnson's' Dictionary' 
disconnected :  and  he  returned  it  with  the  cold 
comment  that  he  thought  'all  these  imitations  of 
"  Tristram  Shandy  "  fell  short  of  the  original ! ' 

The  mention  of  Fielding  reminds  us  that 
Cradock  contributes  yet  one  more  item  to  the 
'Tom  Jones'  legend.  Fielding,  he  tells  us,  was 
intimate  with  the  Boothbys  of  Tooley  Park,  in 
Leicestershire ;  '  and  it  is  supposed  that  more 
than  one  character  in  his  excellent  novel  of"  Tom 
Jones"  was  drawn  from  thence.'  After  this,  we 
are  not  surprised  to  hear  that  the  beauty  of  this 
family,  Mrs.  Boothby,  was  the  model  for  Sophia 
Western,  a  suggestion  which  shows  that  the  book 
must  already  have  been  more  talked  about  than 
read,  since  Fielding's  heroine,  upon  his  own  show- 
ing, was  his  first  wife.^  Of  Gibbon,  Cradock 
says  nothing  worth  repeating;  and  of  Gray  little 

^  These  relations  of  Fielding  with  the  Boothbys  gain  a 
certain  piquancy  from  the  fact  that,  in  some  /Oj^-Richard- 
sonian  editions  of  '  Pamela,'  some  one  has  ingeniously  filled 
in  'Mr.  B's'  name  on  several  occasions  as  'Mr.  Boothby.' 
Fielding,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  completed  it  in  'Joseph 
Andrews  '  as  '  Mr.  Booby.' 


8o  Mr.  Cradock  of  Gum  ley 

beyond  the  fact  that  he  (Cradock)  was  present 
when  Gray's  last  poetical  composition,  the  Ode 
written  for  the  installation  of  the  Duke  of  Grafton 
(Augustus  Henry  Fitzroy)  as  Chancellor  of  the 
University  of  Cambridge — ^an  effort  which  was 
Gray's  spontaneous  return  to  the  Duke  for  making 
him  Professor  of  Modern  History — was  performed 
in  the  Senate  House.  Cradock  adds  that  he  gave 
a  number  of  anecdotes  of  Gray  to  Johnson  for  his 
*  Lives  of  the  Poets.'  Unhappily,  the  Doctor  was 
tired  of  his  task;  and  like  other  contributions  of 
the  kind,  they  were  either  neglected  or  lost. 

But  Cradock  on  Literature  and  the  Drama 
alone  has  exhausted  our  space;  and  we  must  pass 
over  Hackman  and  Miss  Ray,  Lord  Sandwich 
and  Her  Grace  of  Kingston,  Bishop  Hurd  and 
Dr.  Parr,  with  half  a  dozen  other  notorieties  we 
had  marked  for  comment.  The  '  Travels,'  again, 
deserve  more  than  casual  mention,  since  the  most 
cursory  inspection  reveals  seductive  references  to 
Cagliostro  and  the  '  Diamond  Necklace,'  ^  Beau- 

1  '  As  we  left  Paris  for  Flanders  and  Holland,  the  dis- 
consolate Cardinal  [de  Rohan]  was  pointed  out  to  us,  as 
an  object  of  the  last  despair,  leaning  over  the  battlements 
of  the  ever-to-be-abhorred  Bastille.'  ('Memoirs,'  1826,  ii, 
282.)  Louis-Rene,  Prince  de  Rohan,  was  a  leading  actor 
in  the  '  Affaire  du  Collier.' 


Mr.  Cradock  of  Gumley  8 1 

marchais  and  the  ' Maiiage  de  Figaro,'  Choiseul, 
Lauzun,  Buffon,  galley-slaves, improvisatori, scara- 
mouches and  a  host  of  subjects  equally  delectable. 
We  have,  how^ever,  sufficiently  fulfilled  our  pur- 
pose, which  was  mainly  to  direct  attention  to  a 
record  now  wellnigh  forgotten.  Had  Cradock 
written  it  at  fifty  instead  of  eighty,  he  might 
perhaps  have  escaped  the  charges  of  confusion  and 
inaccuracy  which  Forster  (who  nevertheless  uses 
his  material)  lays  at  his  door.  But,  even  as  they 
stand,  his  Memoirs  are  probably  as  trustworthy 
as  many  more  pretentious  chronicles. 


MME.  VIGEE-LEBRUN 

THE  'Souvenirs'  of  Mme.  Louise-Elizabeth 
Vig6e-Lebrun  were  published  in  1835-37, 
when  she  was  more  than  eighty.  One  of  her 
English  reviewers,  who,  though  unacquainted 
with  her  himself,  must  have  known  those  who 
knew  her,  describes  her  as  a  '  most  delightful  old 
lady.'  '  She  is  still,'  he  says — quoting  a  common 
friend — 'gifted  with  all  the  qualities  of  her  youth; 
her  conversation  is  rendered  still  more  interesting 
from  having  read  and  seen  a  great  deal,  and  she 
is  one  of  the  happiest  specimens  of  those  good 
times,  when  grace,  affability,  and  polished  manners 
were  appreciated  in  society.'  The  words  suggest 
a  type  more  familiar  a  hundred  years  ago  than 
now.  One  thinks  instinctively  of  Mme.  du 
Deffand  and  Lady  Hervey,  of  the  Miss  Berrys, 
of  Mme.  D'Arblay  and  her  venerable  friend  Mrs. 
Delany.  The  type,  it  is  true,  is  more  French 
than  English;^  but  it  is  always  distinguishable 

^  It  may  be  noted  that,  of  the  English  ladies  here  named, 
four  had  been  especially  susceptible  to  French  influences. 
H.  F.  Chorley  frankly  compared  the  Berrys  to  '  ancient 
Frenchwomen.'   Gibbon  speaks  of  Lady  Hervey's  '  prefer- 

82 


Mine.  Vig^e-Lebrun  83 

for  its  good  breeding  and  good  nature,  its  social 
charm,  and  its  fund  of  anecdote.  To  this  class 
Mme.  Lebrun  belongs — with  a  difference  which 
is  in  her  favour.  For  while  the  ladies  specified, 
with  the  exception  of  Mme.  D'Arblay,  relied  ex- 
clusively upon  their  conversational  talents  and 
traditions,  Mme.  Lebrun  was  also  a  portrait- 
painter  of  note,  whose  works  are  numerous  and 
well-esteemed.  Her  picture  of  herself  and  her 
daughter,  and  her  delightful  'Girl  with  the  Muff,' 
both  in  the  Louvre,  are  among  the  classics  of  the 
studio;  her  '  La  Paix  qui  ram^ne  I'Abondance,'  in 
the  same  collection,  is  a  triumph  in  its  allegorical 
kind;  and  her  'Chapeau  de  Paille,'  at  the  National 
Gallery,  no  unworthy  pendant  to  the  famous 
Rubens  by  which  it  was  prompted.'  Her  personal 
charms,  as  it  shows,  were  considerable;  and  she 
had  marked  ability  as  a  musician,  a  vocalist,  and  an 
amateur  actor.  She  is  moreover  a  most  attractive 
memoir  writer.  She  has  plenty  to  say,  and  says  it 
in  an  easy  and  unpretentious  way.    Her  style  im- 

ence  and  even  affectation  of  the  manners,  the  language, 
and  the  literature  of  France';  and  Fanny  Btirney  married 
a  Frenchman. 

^  Susanna  Fourment,  also  at  Trafalgar  Square.  It  may 
be  added  that  Mme.  Lebrun's  is  a  true  chapeau  de  paille-^ 
that  in  the  Rubens  is  obvious  felt  {poilr'). 


84  Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun 

presses  you  with  its  sincerity;  and  if  occasionally 
she  speaks  of  herself,  her  egotism  is  not  the  self- 
conscious  complacency  of  Mme.  dc  Genlis,  but 
rather  the  frank  expression  of  a  candour  which 
has  nothing  to  conceal. 

Her  recollections,  which  at  first  take  the  form  of 
letters  to  her  '•bien  bonne  amie^  Princess  Kourakin, 
and,  after  that  lady's  death,  are  continued  as 
'Souvenirs'  beo;in  with  her  childhood.  Born  at 
Paris,  in  the  Rue  Coquilliere,  on  the  i6th  April 
1755,  she  was  the  only  daughter  of  Louis  Vig^e, 
a  painter  of  modest  pretensions,  and  of  his  wife 
Jeanne  Maissin.  Of  Louis  Vig6e,  a  follower  at 
some  distance  of  Watteau  and  the  pastellist  Latour, 
only  two  anecdotes  remain,  of  which  one  is 
popular  enough  to  have  been  attributed  to  others. 
Noticing,  with  some  impatience,  that  a  lady 
sitter  was  grimacing  vigorously  to  make  her 
mouth  seem  smaller,  he  observed  drily  that,  if 
she  preferred  it,  he  could  depict  her  without  any 
mouth  at  all.  Another  thing  his  daughter  records 
is  of  graver  significance.  Returning  on  one 
occasion  from  a  dinner  party  where  he  had 
met  Diderot,  d'Alembert  and  Helvdtius,  he  ob- 
served despondingly  to  his  wife,  that  from  all  he 
could  gather,  '  the  world  would  soon  be  turned 
upside  down.'    This   depressing  forecast,  which 


Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun  85 

Mme.  Lebrun  was  afterwards  so  painfully  to 
verify,  must  have  been  uttered  before  1768,  for 
in  the  May  of  that  year  he  died.  He  left  his 
family,  which  included  a  son  born  ten  years 
before,  so  ill-provided  for  that  his  widow,  a 
handsome  woman,  felt  constrained  to  marry 
again  ("j^  vit  obligee  de  se  remarier");  and  she 
married  disastrously.  Her  second  husband,  sup- 
posed a  rich  jeweller,  proved  a  miserable  skinflint, 
who,  not  content  with  denying  the  necessaries  of 
life  to  those  dependent  on  him,  put  the  crown 
to  his  sordid  economies  by  wearing  his  prede- 
cessor's clothes,  without  even  altering  them  to 
fit  him.  His  step-daughter,  by  this  time  thirteen 
or  fourteen,  and  already  becoming  remarkable 
for  her  natural  artistic  gifts,  seems  to  have  felt 
this  latter  indignity  even  more  acutely  than  the 
fact  that  he  also  remorselessly  impounded  her 
earnings.  Nor  was  this  all.  Conceiving  (like  the 
Arnolphe  he  was!)  that  his  wife  and  step-daughter 
were  too  attractive  to  t\\Q  flaneurs  of  the  Champs 
Elysees,  he  transported  them  for  the  week-ends 
to  a  dilapidated  bicoque^  or  shanty,  at  Chaillot, 
where,  had  it  not  been  for  the  compassionate 
friends  who  occasionally  took  her  on  expeditions 
to  Sceaux,  Marly-le-Roi  and  other  show-places 
in   the  neighbourhood.   Mile.  Vigee   must  have 


86  Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun 

died  of  dullness.  By  the  time  she  was  twenty  she 
had  painted  several  portraits;  and  a  well-timed 
presentation  to  the  French  Academy  of  post- 
humous likenesses  of  La  Bruyere  and  the  Abbe 
Fleury  procured  her  not  only  the  official  thanks 
of  that  body,  but  a  personal  visit  from  its  secre- 
tary, d'Alembert — 'a  dry  and  cold  little  man, 
exquisitely  polite.'  Five  months  later,  and  moved 
thereto  mainly  by  the  desire  to  escape  from  her 
^  vilain  beau-pere^  she  married,  almost  as  unfortu- 
nately as  her  mother.  Her  husband,  a  son  of 
Pierre  Lebrun,  and  himself  a  painter  picture- 
dealer,  was,  it  is  true,  not  unpleasing.  But  he 
was  also  a  man  of  dissolute  habits,  and  a  gambler 
besides,  in  which  latter  capacity  he  squandered  his 
wife's  earnings  with  so  little  compunction  that, 
when  she  quitted  France  a  dozen  years  afterwards 
— although,  in  the  interval,  she  had  made  more 
than  a  million  of  francs — she  could  scarcely 
command  an  income  of  twenty.  The  pair  had 
one  daughter,  born  in  February  1780,  and  often 
painted  by  her  mother.  There  was  not  much 
romance  in  all  this;  but  with  such  sentiment- 
alities Mme.  Lebrun  liad,  luckily  for  herself, 
been  unfamiliar,  since  it  was  not  until  after  her 
marriage  that  she  was  allowed  to  read  her  first 
novel,  Richardson's  '  Clarissa.' 


Mine.  Vigee-Lebrun  87 

By  1776,  the  year  of  that  marriage,  she  had 
nevertheless  become  well  known  as  an  artist,  and 
her  modest  atelier  in  the  large  house  where  M. 
Lebrun  had  his  showrooms,  was  often  crowded 
by  aristocratic  sitters  and  visitors.    Her  husband, 
greedy  of  further  gain,  persuaded    her  to    take 
pupils.    She   was,    however,    far    too    young    to 
manage  students  often  much  older  than  herself, 
and  the   scheme  did   not  succeed.    By  and    by 
royalty  added  itself  to  her  distinguished  clients. 
In  this  same  year   1776  one  of  her  sitters  was 
'  Monsieur,'  the  King's  brother,  afterwards  Louis 
XVIII,  who,  in   addition   to   the   small   talk  in 
which  he  excelled,  was  wont  to  enliven  his  seances 
by  singing,  much  out  of  tune,  songs  that  were 
sometimes  as  much  out  of  taste.    '  How  do  you 
think  I  sing,   Mme.  Lebrun  ? '  he  one   day  in- 
quired.   'Like  a  Prince,  Monseigneur! '  was  the 
discreet  and  admirable  reply.    As  time  went  on, 
Mme.  Lebrun  painted  all  the  royal  family,  with 
the  exception  of  M.  d'Artois.    But  her  favourite 
and  most  frequent  model  was  the  Queen,  who 
first  sat  to  her  in  1779.    Her  description  of  that 
unfortunate  lady,  then  in  the  full  splendour  of 
her  youth   and   beauty,  is   doubly  valuable,  not 
only  as  the  report  of  a  sympathetic  admirer,  but 
also  of  an  '  expert '  observer : 


88  Mine.  Visi:ce-Lebruu 


'<!>' 


'  Marie-Antoinette  was  tall,  admirably  pro- 
portioned, and  plump  without  being  too  much 
so.  Her  arms  were  superb;  her  hands  small  and 
perfectly  formed ;  her  feet  charming.  She  walked 
better  than  any  woman  in  France,  carrying  her 
head  very  high,  with  a  majesty  that  announced  a 
sovereign  in  the  midst  of  her  court,  and  yet 
without  in  any  way  by  that  majesty  modifying 
her  habitually  gentle  and  benevolent  aspect.  .  .  . 
Her  features  were  not  at  all  regular;  she  inherited 
from  her  family  the  long  and  narrow  oval  peculiar 
to  the  Austrian  nation.  Her  eyes  were  by  no 
means  large;  their  colour  was  almost  blue;  her 
expression  was  mild  and  agreeable;  her  nose 
clear-cut  and  pretty;  and  her  mouth  was  not  too 
large,  though  the  lips  were  somewhat  full.  But 
the  most  remarkable  thing  in  her  face,  was  her 
magnificent  complexion.  Never  have  1  seen  any 
so  brilliant,  and  brilliant  is  the  word,  for  her  skin 
was  so  transparent  that  it  took  no  shade.  .  .  . 
As  to  her  conversation,  it  would  be  difficult  for 
me  to  give  an  idea  of  all  its  grace,  and  all  its 
amenity;  I  do  not  think  Queen  Marie- Antoinette 
ever  missed  an  opportunity  of  saying  something 
agreeable  to  those  who  had  the  honour  to 
approach  her." 

At  one  of  these  sittings,  Mme.  Lebrun  ven- 


Mine.  Vigee-Lcbrun  89 

tured  to  observe  upon  the  advantage  in  dignity 
which  the  Oueen  enjoyed  from  her  manner  of 
holding  her  head — a  compliment  which  drew 
from  her  the  smiling  answer,  'If  I  were  not 
Queen,  they  would  say  I  h^d  an  insolent  air — 
would  they  not?'  Upon  another  occasion,  the 
artist  endeavoured  to  persuade  her  to  part  her 
hair  in  the  middle,  so  as  to  lessen  the  exceptional 
height  of  her  forehead — a  device  which  had  been 
successfully  adopted  by  the  beautiful  Duchesse  de 
Grammont-Caderousse.  But  Marie  Antoinette 
laughingly  refused.  *  I  should  be  the  last  to  follow 
this  fashion,'  she  said,  '  for  I  do  not  wish  it  to  be 
reported  that  I  invented  it  to  hide  my  high  fore- 
head.' Mme.  Lebrun  often  painted  her  subse- 
quently, the  best-known  example  being  the  group 
now  at  Versailles,  in  which  she  appears  with 
Mme.  Royale,  the  first  Dauphin,  and  the  baby 
Due  de  Normandie,  later  the  ill-fated  Louis  XVII. 
After  the  Dauphin's  death  in  1789,  the  Queen 
could  not  endure  to  look  at  the  picture;  and  it 
was  put  out  of  sight,  a  circumstance  to  which,  in 
the  troublous  times  to  come,  it  probably  owed  its 
preservation,  as  it  would  certainly  have  been 
slashed  to  ribbons  by  one  mob  or  another.  Mme. 
Lebrun's  last  likeness  of  the  Queen  was  post- 
humous,   being    a    memory-portrait    which    she 


90  Mme.  Vigce-Lebrun 

sent  from  St.  Petersburg  in  1800  to  theDuchesse 
d'Angouleme.^ 

But  we  must  return  to  Mme.  Lebrun  herself. 
In  1782  her  husband  carried  her  to  Flanders,  where 
at  Brussels  she  visited  the  famous  gallery  of  the 
Prince  de  Ligne,  and  where  her  studies  of  Rubens 
set  her  upon  emulating  the  afore-mentioned  'Cha- 
peau  de  Paille,'  which  had  not  then  left  Antwerp 
for  its  English  home.  In  1783,  Joseph  Vernet, 
who,  after  her  father's  death,  had  always  been  her 
friend  and  counsellor,  proposed  her  as  a  Member  of 
the  Academy  of  Painting;  and  after  some  slight  op- 
position, she  was  elected,  her  diploma  picture  being 
that  *  La  Paix  qui  ramene  I'Abondance '  in  the 
Louvre,  to  which  reference  has  already  been  made. 
In  September  of  the  same  year  she  was  one  of  the 
favoured  few  who  witnessed,  in  M.  de  Vaudreuil's 
great  room  at  Gennevilliers,  the  preliminary  per- 
formance of  the  afterwards  celebrated  '  Mariage  de 
Figaro ' — a  work  which,  looking  to  the  random 
shafts  it  levelled  at  the  Court,  no  good  courtier 
could  regard  as  other  than  "  ill-conceived."  And 
this  bringsusto  anotheraspect  of  her  abilities.  Long 
before,  her  growing  social  reputation  had  earned 
her  a  visit  of  curiosity  from  that  mire  des  philosophes 

^  See  'Clay's  Journal,'  post,  p.  266. 


Mnie.  Vigee-Lebrun  91 

and  rival  of  Mme.  de  Deffand,  Mme.  GeofFrin; 
and  by  this  date  she  had  practically  a  salon  of  her 
own — a  w/(7«which  the  ChevalierdeChampcenetz 
— mouthpiece  of  malice  as  he  was — chose  to  de- 
scribe as  censurably  sumptuous.  *Mme.  Lebrun,' 
he  wrote,  '  has  gilded  panels.  She  lights  her  fire 
with  bank-notes ;  and  only  burns  aloe-wood.'  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  her  apartments  were  restricted  to 
a  little  antechamber,  and  a  bedroom  doing  duty 
as  a  sitting-room.  But  hither  she  contrived  to  at- 
tract the  pick  of  her  contemporaries.  Court  and 
town,  grandes  dames  and  grands  seigneurs^  men  of 
mark  in  letters  and  the  arts,  all  flocked — she  tells 
us — to  her  reunions.  Lekain,  with  his  terrible  eye- 
brows; Talma,  as  yet  but  an  awkward  yV««^/»r^- 
mier;  Gretry  and  Sacchini,  composers;  Garat  and 
Mme. Todi, singers;  violinists  such  as  Viotti,  Mae- 
strino,  and  Prince  Henry  of  Prussia ;  pianists  such 
as  Hullmandel  and  Cramer  the  elder;  poets  like 
L,ehrun-Pindare  and  the  French  Virgil,  Delille — 
alternated  with  countesses  and  actresses,  artists  and 
petits-TuaitreSy  in  short,  with  everything  that  Paris 
could  produce  in  the  way  of  wit  and  talent.  Of 
these,  again,  a  favoured  few  were  admitted  to  a 
subsequent  supper  of  a  simple  and  primitive  kind 
which  lasted  until  midnight.  A  fowl,  a  fish,  a  dish 
of  vegetables  and  a  salad  generally  made  up  the 


92  Mine.  Vigde-Lebrun 

menu;^  and  if  there  was  not  enough,  the  guests 
were  still  contented.  When  chairs  failed,  they  cheer- 
fully sat  upon  the  floor;  and  sometimes,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Marshal  de  Noailles,  who  was  old  and 
unwieldy,  found  it  difficult  to  get  up  again. 

One  of  these  informal  gatherings,  the  so-called 
'  Greek  supper,'  obtained  an  unsolicited  notoriety. 
Sitting  one  evening  in  expectation  of  her  first 
guests,  and  listening  to  her  brother's  reading  of 
the  Abbe  Barthelemy's  recently  published  *  Voy- 
age du  Jeune  Anacharsis  en  Grece,'  it  presently 
occurred  to  her  to  give  an  Attic  character  to  her 
little  entertainment.  The  cook  was  straightway 
summoned,  and  ordered  to  prepare,  secundum 
artem^  specially  classic  sauces  ^  for  the  eel  and 
pullet  of  the  evening.  Some  Etruscan  vases  were 
borrowed  from  a  compliant  collector  on  the  prem- 
ises; a  large  screen  was  decorated  with  drapery 
for  a  background  ;  and  the  earliest  comers,  several 
very  pretty  women,  were  hastily  costumed  a  la 

^  In  this  she  must  have  followed  the  lead  of  Mme. 
GeofFrin,  of  whose  suppers  Marmontel  say  s, '  La  bonne  chere 
en  etait  succincte ;  cetait  communement  un  poulet,  des  epinards, 
une  omelette? 

2  Probably  some  variation  of  grated  cheese,  garlic,  vine- 
gar and  leek.  (Barthelemy,  vol.  ii,  ch.  2  5,  has  a  most  learned 
account  Des  Maisons  et  des  Repas  des  Atkenie/is.) 


Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun  93 

grecque  out  of  the  studio  wardrobe.  Lebrun- 
Pindare^  arriving  opportunely,  was  at  once  un- 
powdered,  divested  of  his  side  curls,  crowned  as 
Anacreon  with  a  property  laurel-wreath,  and  robed 
in  a  purple  mantle  belonging  to  the  Count  de 
Parois,  the  accommodating  owner  of  the  pottery. 
The  Marquis  de  Cubieres  (who  must  not  be 
confused  with  his  contemptible  brother,  Dorat- 
Cubieres),^  foUowingnext,  wasspeedily  Hellenized, 
and  made  to  send  for  his  guitar,  which  his  taste 
for  the  antique  had  apparently  already  prompted 
him  to  gild  like  a  lyre.  Other  guests  were  similarly 
*  translated.'  For  Mme.  Lebrun  herself,  it  needed 
but  the  addition  of  a  chaplet  of  flowers  and  a  veil 
to  her  customary  white  dress,  to  convert  her  into 
the  Aspasia  of  the  minute;  and  when,  at  ten,  M. 
de  Vaudreuil  and  M.  Boutin  arrived  for  supper, 
they  were  amazed  to  find  themselves  in  a  company 
of  latter-day  Athenians,  singing  a  chorus  of  Gluck 
to  the  accompaniment  of  the  golden  guitar  of 
Cubieres.  A  supplement  had  been  made  to  the 
regulation  bill-of-fare  in  the  form  of  a  cake  con- 
fected  with  currants  and  honey;  and  a  flask  of  old 
Cypriot  wine,  which  had  been  a  present,  completed 
the  illusion,  l^^hrxxn- Pindar e  declaimed  a  selection 
of  his  own  translations  from  Anacreon,  and  the 
'   See  'Clery's  Journal,'  post,  p.  250, 


94  Mine.  Vigce-Lebrun 

proceedings  passed  off  with  triumphant  success. 
Though  the  hostess  wisely  refrained  from  any  at- 
tempt to  repeat  this  fortunate  impromptu,  her  cir- 
cumspection did  not  prevent  rumour  from  exag- 
gerating its  details.  At  Versailles,  the  '  Supper  in 
the  Manner  of  the  Ancients '  was  said  to  have  cost 
twenty  thousand  francs.  This — on  the  principle 
of  Bvrom's  'Three  Black  Crows' — at  Rome  be- 
came  forty;  at  Vienna,  sixty;  and  at  St.  Peters- 
burg, eighty  thousand.  Naturally,  the  frugal  King 
grumbled  at  such  reckless  prodigality.  But  the 
Marquis  de  Cubieres,  who  had  been  present,  was 
able  to  reassure  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  en- 
tire expense  had  not  exceeded  fifteen  francs. 

Anacreon's  wreath  had  last  been  used  forapicture 
of  the  young  Prince  Lubomirski,  which,  with  the 
publication  of  '  Anacharsis,'  fixes  the  year  of  the 
above  incident  as  1788 — the  year  before  the  taking 
of  the  Bastille.  By  this  date  public  opinion  was 
in  a  ferment,  and  people  everywhere  were  either 
dreading  or  desiring  the  coming  cataclysm.  Calum- 
nies and  scandals  of  all  sorts  were  afloat,  and,  as  a 
prominent  personage,  Mme.  Lebrun  did  not  es- 
cape them.  She  had  already,  without  the  slightest 
ground,  been  accused  of  being  the  mistress  of 
Calonne,  the  controleur-general\  she  had  been  also 
accused,  with  equal  injustice,  of  letting  Boucher's 


Mine.  Vigee-Lebru7i  95 

pupil,  Menageot,  paint  her  pictures;  ^  and  as  time 
went  on,  her  intimate  relations  with  the  Court 
rendered  her  an  object  of  suspicion  to  the  populace. 
She  was  repeatedly  threatened ;  and  finally,  owing 
to  perpetual  alarms,  which  made  it  difficult  for  her 
to  pursue  her  profession  with  security,  she  prepared 
to  quit  France.  Her  decision  was  confirmed  by  see- 
ing the  famous  Pamela  (afterwards  Lady  Edward 
Fitzgerald)  careering  on  horseback  through  the 
Paris  streets, followed  bytwogrooms  in  theOrleans 
livery,  and  applauded  by  an  excited  mob,  crying 
exultingly,  '  Voila^  voila  celle  qiiil  nous  faudrait 
pour  reine! '  This,  she  naturally  thought,  portended 
the  end  of  all  things;  and,  terrified  exceedingly, 
made  ready  to  take  flight  for  Rome.  Acting  on  the 
advice  of  two  friendly  national  guards,  she  decided 
to  travel,  not  in  her  own  carriage,  but  by  the  com- 
mon stage.  Her  daughter,  then  nine  years  old,  and 
her  daughter's  governess,  accompanied  her — M. 
Lebrun  remaining  behind.  Disguised  as  poor 
people,  they  started  at  midnight  on  the  very  day 
the  mob  had  conducted  the  King  and  Queen  from 
Versailles  to  Paris.  Their  chief  fellow-passengers 
were  a  malodorous  thief,  who  openly  boasted  of  his 
misdeeds ;  and  a  fervid  Grenoble  Jacobin,  who, 

^  M^nageot's  masterpiece,  in  an  entirely  different  man- 
ner, is  the  well-known  Death  of  Leonardo  da  Fi/ici. 


g6  Mine.  Vigce-Lebrun 

whenever  the  crowd  stopped  the  diligence  for  news 
from  the  capital,  harangued  violently  against  the 
Boulanger  and  the  Boulangere — i.e.  Louis  XVI  and 
the  Queen.  What  was  worse,  this  dangerous  de- 
magogue had  seen  Mme.  Lebrun's  picture  of  her- 
self and  child  in  the  Salon,  though  fortunately  he 
did  not  recognize  her.  But  she  was  recognized  as 
soon  as  she  had  fairly  crossed  the  frontier  at  Pont 
Beauvoisin,  and  set  foot  in  Savoy.  Climbing  Mont 
Cenis,  a  postilion  accosted  her.  '  Madame  should 
take  a  mule,'  said  he;  'walking  is  too  fatiguing 
for  a  lady  such  as  she  is.'  She  answered  that  she  was 
a  workwoman,  well  accustomed  to  walk.  But  the 
postilion  knew  better.  '  You  are  Mme.  Lebrun,' 
he  rejoined, '  who  paints  beautifully,  and  we  are  all 
rejoiced  to  know  you  are  far  from  those  wicked 
people.' 

To  follow  Mme.  Lebrun's  wanderings  for  the 
next  few  years  in  anything  like  detail  would  be  im- 
practicable. Wherever  she  went  she  found  friends. 
At  Turin  she  was  welcomed  by  the  engraver  Por- 
porati,  whom  she  had  known  at  Paris.  Porporati's 
account  of  art  in  the  town,  where  he  was  a  pro- 
fessor, was  not  encouraging,  since  he  told  her  that 
a  very  great  personage,  learning  his  occupation, 
had  brought  him  a  seal  to  cut !  At  Parma  she  was 
entranced  by  the  Notte  of  Correggio,  afterwards 


Mine.  Vigce-Lebrun  97 

for  a  time  at  Paris,  and  now  at  Dresden.  She  seems 
to  have  been  profoundly  impressed,  not  only  by 
Correggio  himself,  whose  influence  is  thought  to  be 
discernible  in  her  subsequent  works,  but  by  the 
superiority  of  Christian  themes  to  Pagan  fables. 
Passing  through  Modena  she  came  to  Bologna, 
where,  at  that  time,  the  French  were  only  allowed 
to  remain  one  night.  She  was  in  despair,  when  a 
papal  functionary,  garbed  in  black  like  Beaumar- 
chais'  '  Bartholo,'  arrived  to  announce  that  she 
might  stay  as  long  as  she  pleased.  What  was 
more,  the  Bolognese  made  her  a  member  of  their 
Academy  and  Institute.  This  was  in  November 
1789.  From  Bologna  she  proceeded  to  Florence, 
revelling  in  the  Pitti  Palace;  from  Florence,  to 
Rome.  Like  some  other  travellers,  she  was  dis- 
appointed with  the  Tiber.  At  Rome  she  found 
her  old  friend  Menageot,  now  Director  of  the 
Academy  of  St.  Luke,  to  which  her  own  father  had 
belonged.  Here  Girodet  was  already  distinguished; 
and  she  was  presented  by  the  students  with  the 
palette  of  the  last  of  the  Drouais,  David's  pupil, 
Jean-Germain,  the  painter  of  that  Marius  at  Min- 
turncs  which  won  the  praise  of  Goethe.  Drouais 
had  died  at  three-and-twenty  in  the  preceding  year. 
At  Rome,  too,  she  visited  Angelica  Kauffmann, 
one  of  whose  pictures  she  had  admired  at  Florence. 

H 


98  Mnie.  Vigee-Lebrun 

'Miss  Angel,'  at  this  date,  was  about  fifty;  but, 
although  re-married,  had  never  quite  recovered  the 
shock  of  her  first  ill-omened  alliance  w^ith  the  im- 
postor, de  Horn,  Her  visitor  found  her  amiable, 
clever,  and  thoroughly  instructed  in  her  art,  but 
without  a  particle  of  enthusiasm.  Mme.  Lebrun 
had  many  sitters  at  Rome,  and  she  remained  there 
eight  months,  when  she  removed  to  Naples.  At 
Naples  she  spent  most  of  her  evenings  at  the 
Russian  Ambassador's.  She  also  saw  much  of  the 
English  Ambassador,  Sir  William  Hamilton  ;  and 
painted,  in  the  character  of  a  Bacchante,  a  portrait 
of  Emma  Hart,  afterwards  his  wife.  At  Naples 
also  she  produced  one  of  her  best  portraits — that 
of  the  composer  Giovanni  Paisiello.  From  Naples 
she  went  back  to  Rome,  and  then  once  more  re- 
turned to  Naples.  Finally  she  quitted  the  Eternal 
City  in  tears,  passing  successively  to  Florence 
again,  to  Venice,  to  Milan,  and  eventually  to 
Vienna,  where,  in  1793, she  heard  from  her  brother 
of  the  deaths  of  Louis  XVI  and  Marie  Antoinette. 
At  Vienna,  where  for  a  space  Mme.  Lebrun 
made  her  home  near  Marie  Antoinette's  former 
friend,  the  Duchesse  de  Polignac,  whose  death 
from  grief  followed  hard  upon  that  of  the  Queen, 
she  continued  to  reside,  engaged,  among  other 
things,  upon  a  portrait  of  the  beautiful  Princess 


Mme.  Vigee-Lebriin  99 

of  Lichtenstein  as  Iris.  Concerning  this  perform- 
ance it  may  be  mentioned,  as  indicative  of  the 
capricious  delicacy  of  those  days,  that  strong  objec- 
tion was  made  by  the  model's  friends  to  her  being 
represented  with  bare  feet.  So  much  was  this 
regarded  as  an  artistic  oversight,  that  the  prince 
her  husband,  in  deference  to  criticism,  was  ac- 
customed to  place  under  the  portrait  an  elegant 
pair  of  shoes,  which  he  pretended  must  have  fallen 
off.  In  April  1795,  after  a  stay  in  Austria  of  two 
years  and  a  half,  Mme.  Lebrun  determined  to  go 
to  Russia.  She  had  every  hope  that  a  sojourn  in 
a  capital  so  friendly  to  the  arts  as  St.  Petersburg 
would  speedily  complete  the  fortune  she  hoped 
to  secure  before  she  went  back  to  her  native 
country,  then  on  the  eve  of  the  Directoire ;  and 
she  had,  moreover,  been  led  to  believe  that  she 
would  be  favourably  received  by  Catharine  II,  to 
whom  she  was  introduced  by  the  French  Am- 
bassador, Esterhazy.  This  is  how  she  describes 
the  Empress,  then  sixty-seven,  and  not  far  from 
her  death :  '  I  was  at  first  extremely  surprised 
to  find  her  very  small  [a  surprise  which  she 
subsequently  experienced  on  her  first  sight  or 
Napoleon].  I  had  pictured  her  to  myself  as  a 
prodigiously  large  woman,  as  great  as  her  renown. 
She  was  very  stout;  but  she  had  still  a  fine  face, 


lOO  Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun 

to  which  her  white  hair,  turned  up,  made  an 
admirable  frame.  Genius  seemed  to  sit  on  her 
broad  and  very  high  forehead.  Her  eyes  were 
soft  and  keen;  her  nose  exactly  Grecian;  her 
colour  excessively  high,  and  her  physiognomy 
very  mobile.  She  said  to  me  at  once  in  a  voice 
full  of  kindness,  but  nevertheless  somewhat  thick, 
"I  am  charmed,  Madame,  to  receive  you  here; 
)''our  reputation  has  preceded  you.  I  am  very 
fond  of  the  arts,  painting  especially.  I  am  not  a 
connoisseur,  but  an  amateur."  Everything  she 
added  during  this  interview,  which  lasted  some 
time,  with  regard  to  her  desire  that  I  should  like 
Russia  well  enough  to  make  a  long  stay  there, 
bore  the  impress  of  so  great  a  benevolence  that 
my  timidity  disappeared,  and  when  I  took  leave 
of  her  Majesty,  I  was  completely  reassured.'  But 
she  had  committed  one  terrible  crime  in  the  eyes 
of  Esterhazy.  She  had  neglected  to  kiss  the 
Empress's  hand,  which  had  been  specially  un- 
gloved for  the  purpose ! 

'■C^est  vraiment  une  honne  femme^  had  said  the 
Comte  de  Choiseul-Gouffier,  referring  to  Catharina 
Alexiewna.  Mme.  Lebrun,  remembering  history, 
had  found  some  difficulty  in  accepting  the  epithet. 
But  the  Empress  treated  her  with  uniform  kind- 
ness, and  even  indulgence,  and  she  certainly  saw 


Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun  loi 

her  best  side.  She  painted  the  Grand  Duchesses 
Alexandrina  and  Helen,  Paul's  daughters;  and 
the  beautiful  Grand  Duchess  Elizabeth,  after- 
wards the  wife  of  the  Emperor  Alexander.  She 
was  to  have  painted  Catharine  herself,  and  the 
day  for  the  first  sitting  had  been  fixed  a  week 
later,  when  apoplexy,  precipitated,  it  may  be,  by 
the  failure  of  the  negotiations  for  the  marriage  of 
Alexandrina  to  the  young  King  of  Sweden — put 
an  end  to  everything.  The  'eccentric'^  Emperor 
Paul  succeeded  to  the  throne;  and  Mme.  Lebrun 
gives  a  graphic  picture,  as  seen  from  her  window, 
of  that  extraordinary  double  funeral  in  which  the 
disinterred  ashes  of  the  new  autocrat's  father  were 
buried  by  the  body  of  his  mother:  'The  time  of 
the  ceremony  came:  the  coffin  of  Peter  III,  on 
which  his  son  had  placed  a  crown,  was  transported 
pompously  next  to  that  of  Catharine,  and  both 
were  then  borne  together  to  the  citadel,  that  of 
Peter  going  first,  for  Paul  desired  to  cast  a  slight 
upon  his  mother's  remains.  .  .  .  The  coffin  of 
the  deceased  Emperor  was  preceded  by  a  guards- 
man, clad  from  head  to  foot  in  gold  armour  [who 
afterwards  died  of  fatigue].    The  one  who  went 

This  Is  Bonaparte's  word,  and  might  well  have  been 
stronger. 


102  Mme.  Vip^ie-Lebrun 


<b' 


before  that  of  the  Empress  wore  only  steel;  and 
the  assassins  of  Peter  III,  by  his  son's  order,  were 
compelled  to  bear  his  pall.  Paul  followed  the 
procession  on  foot,  bare-headed,  with  his  wife,  and 
the  entire  court,  who  were  very  numerous,  and 
in  deep  mourning.  The  ladies  had  long  trains, 
and  were  enveloped  in  huge  black  veils.  In  this 
guise,  they  had  to  walk  through  the  snow,  in 
bitter  weather,  to  the  fortress  [and  cathedral], 
which  is  a  long  way  off,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Neva.  At  the  return,  some  of  the  ladies  I  saw 
were  nearly  dying  of  cold  and  fatigue.' 

The  accession  of  Paul  made  little  difference  in 
Mme.  Lcbrun's  plans,  and  she  continued  to  reside 
in  Russia,  where  she  had  opulent  clients.  The 
St.  Petersburg  Academy  elected  her  to  its  body, 
a  circumstance  which  incidentally  acquaints  us 
with  the  rather  extraordinary  costume  adopted  by 
lady  members.  This,  she  says,  consisted  of  a 
riding-habit  ['■habit  cV a7na%one^\  a  little  violet  vest, 
a  yellow  petticoat,  and  a  black-feathered  hat. 
But  about  this  time  she  suffered  her  worst  mis- 
fortune since  her  marriage.  Her  daughter,  whom 
she  idolized  as  Mme.  de  Sevigne  did  Mme.  de 
Grignan,  fell  in  love  with  an  entirely  second-rate 
and  penniless  M.  Nigris.  After  exhausting  all 
arguments    against    the    match,   the   consent   of 


Mine.  Vigee-Lebrmi  103 

M.  Lebrun,  then  in  Paris,  was  obtained,  and  the 
marriage  portion  swallowed  up  the  bulk  of  Mme. 
Lebrun's  Russian  savings.  As  she  had  feared, 
the  union  was  not  happy.  In  1800,  to  restore 
her  shattered  health,  she  went  to  Moscow.  Four 
months  later,  returning  to  St.  Petersburg,  she 
heard  of  the  assassination  of  the  Emperor  Paul. 
His  son  and  successor,  Alexander  I,  was  well 
disposed  to  her,  and  fortune  seemed  again  in  sight. 
But  while  she  always  regarded  Russia  as  her 
'second  country,'  she  was  hungering  for  her  first 
country,  France.  She  had  been  struck  off  the 
list  of  emigres  \  and,  after  pausing  at  Berlin  and 
Dresden,  she  turned  at  last  towards  Paris. 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1 801,  after  a  twelve 
years*  exile,  that  Mme.  Lebrun  arrived  at  her 
house,  No.  4,  Rue  du  Gros-Chenet,  where  she 
was  welcomed  with  tears  by  her  brother  and  M. 
Lebrun.  The  latter,  whom  she  had  freely  financed 
during  her  absence,  had  pleasingly  decorated  her 
appartement^  a  delicate,  if  costly,  attention  which 
was  no  less  than  her  due.  Nothing  could  however 
detract  from  the  delight  of  once  more  touching 
her  natal  soil,  notwithstanding  the  sombre  traces 
of  revolution — the  liberie^  fraternite^  ou  la  mort 
on  every  wall,  the  new  fashion  of  separating  the 
men  and  women  in  the  soirees^  and  the  funereal 


104  Mme.  Vig^e-Lebrun 

*  black  coats  and  black  hair,'  which  contrasted  so 
gloomily  with  the  powder  and  parti-colour  she 
remembered  in  the  past.  But  old  friends  soon 
rallied  round  her.  Greuze  and  M^na2:eot  called 
upon  her.  The  urgent  need  of  a  ball-dress  was 
happily  adjusted  by  making  up  an  embroidered 
Indian  muslin  which  had  once  been  given  to  her 
by  Mme.  Du  Barry;  the  Comedie  fran^aise  put 
her  on  their  free  list;  and  Mme.  Bonaparte 
brought  her  an  invitation  to  breakfast  with  the 
First  Consul, — one  of  whose  grand  parades  on 
the  Place  du  Louvre  she  witnessed.  Besides  meet- 
ing former  acquaintances,  such  as  Mme.  Campan, 
now  transferred  to  the  Bonapartes,  and  Delille, 
blind  and  feeble,  but  still  a  delightful  companion, 
she  made  fresh  ones — Ducis,  the  adapter  of  Shake- 
speare ;  Gerard,  the  painter  of  Mme.  Recamier ; 
the  beautiful  Mme.  Recamier  herself,  and  her 
rival,  the  equally  beautiful  Spaniard,  Theresia 
Cabarrus,  then  the  wife  of  Tallien,  and  later,  by  a 
third  marriage,  Princesse  de  Chimay.  For  a  time 
the  old  pre-revolutionary  suppers  were  revived,  at 
which  Gerard,  replacing  Cubieres,  sang  Malbrouk 
— 'like  a  Prince.'  Plays  also  were  occasionally 
acted  in  M.  Lebrun's  gallery.  But  as  time  went 
on,  Mme.  Lebrun  found  the  Paris  of  the  Consulate 
too  thickly  haunted  by  melancholy  memories,  and 


Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun  105 

she  took  refuge  in  a  country  house  at  Meudon, 
much  to  the  advantage  of  her  health.  A  return 
to  the  capital,  however,  brought  back  all  her 
depression,  and  she  resolved  to  dissipate  it  entirely 
by  travel. 

In  April  1802  she  left  Paris  for  London  with 
a  companion,  but  without  knowing  a  word  of 
English,  a  defect  which  she  endeavoured  to  ob- 
viate by  engaging  an  English  maid.  But  the 
English  maid  did  nothing  all  day  but  eat  bread 
and  butter,  and  was  promptly  dispensed  with. 
After  travelling  from  Dover  with  her  diamonds 
in  her  stockings  for  fear  of  highwaymen,  she 
went  to  Brunet's  Hotel  in  Leicester  Square. 
Thence  she  moved  into  lodgings  in  Beck  (?  Beak) 
Street,  and  finally  settled  in  Maddox  Street.  Her 
first  impressions  of  England  were  not  favourable. 
She  had  a  passion  for  fresh  air,  and  consequently 
disliked  the  foggy  climate;  the  natives  distressed 
her  by  their  frigid  taciturnity;  she  was  frightened 
by  the  frequent  '  boxing'  in  the  streets;  and  ap- 
palled by  the  tedium  of  the  '  routs '  to  which  she 
was  at  once  invited,  where  she  was  stifled  in  a 
standing  crowd  without  ever  getting  within 
measurable  distance  of  the  hostess.  Yet  she  must 
have  grown  gradually  reconciled  to  her  environ- 
ment, for  she  stayed  here  three   years,  making 


io6  Mme.  Vis:^e-Lebrun 


'i>' 


many  excursions  to  Bath,  Brighton,  Tunbridge 
Wells,  Matlock,  and  so  forth.  In  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  which  she  visited  with  the  Margravine  of 
Ansbach  (Lady  Craven),  she  could  almost  have 
settled  down.  Nor  did  she  neglect  the  environs 
of  London;  she  went  to  Hampton  Court;  she 
watched  George  III  promenading  the  terrace  at 
Windsor;  she  visited  at  Twickenham  her  old 
friend  of  Gennevilliers,  M.  de  Vaudreuil.  Vau- 
dreuil  introduced  her  to  the  Due  d'Orleans, 
Louis  Philippe,  then  living  at  Orleans  House 
with  his  brothers,  the  Comte  de  Beaujolais  and 
the  Due  de  Montpensier.  With  the  last-named, 
who  died  at  Twickenham  in  1807,  she  sometimes 
went  sketching.  But  her  memory  must  have  failed 
her  when  she  says  that,  showing  her  the  view 
from  Richmond  Hill,  he  also  showed  her,  in  a 
neighbouring  '■prairie^  the  trunk  of  a  tree  under 
which  Milton  sat  when  he  composed  *  Paradise 
Lost.'  Other  members  of  the  French  Royal 
Family  whom  she  met  in  England  were  M. 
d'Artois  and  his  son,  the  Due  de  Berri.  She  was 
at  the  theatre  when,  in  March  1804,  the  news 
arrived  of  Bonaparte's  murder  at  Vincennes  of 
the  last  of  the  Cond6s,  the  Due  d'Enghien ;  and 
she  was  afterwards  visited  by  his  inconsolable 
father,  the  Due  de  Bourbon. 


Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun  107 

In  1802,  Reynolds  had  been  ten  years  dead. 
But  Mme.  Lebrun  had  ample  opportunities  of 
studying  his  pictures,  which  she  greatly  admired, 
particularly  the  'Infant  Samuel,'  perhaps  all  the 
more  because  of  an  anecdote  which  was  reported 
to  her.  When  her  portrait  of  Calonne  had  come 
to  England,  Reynolds  went  to  see  it  at  the  Custom 
House,  and  to  some  one  who  commented  upon 
its  reported  price,  ^3,200,^  had  generously  replied 
that  he  himself  could  not  have  done  it  so  well  if 
they  had  given  him  ^^4,000.  In  default  of  Sir 
Joshua,  Mme.  Lebrun  visited  West,  then  in  the 
height  of  his  popularity.  Fox  called  upon  her, 
but  she  missed  him.  She  was  more  fortunate 
with  Mrs.  Siddons  whom  she  had  seen  as  '  Mrs. 
Beverley'  in  Moore's  'Gamester,'  and  with  whose 
beautiful  voice  and  expressive  silences  she  was 
charmed.  As  at  Paris,  she  contrived,  in  her  damp 
Maddox  Street  rooms,  to  have  soirees,  to  which 
the  beautiful  Mme.  Grassini  (whom  she  painted) '■' 
and  Mrs.  Billington,  then  the  two  best  singers  of 
English   opera,  lent   the   music  of  their  voices. 

^  She  does  not  correct  this;  but  she  elsewhere  says  that 
Calonne  only  gave  her  4,000  francs,  in  a  box  worth  about 
26  louis. — ('Seventh  Letter  to  the  Princess  Kouiakin.') 

"  This  portrait  is  now  in  the  Museum  at  Avignon,  to 
which  the  artist  left  it  by  will. 


io8  Mine.  Vizee-Lebrun 


'<:>' 


These  entertainments  must  have  been  a  success, 
for  that  eminent  cognoscente^  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
was  good  enough  to  say  that  '  he  looked  in  else- 
where; but  there  he  stayed,' — which  reads  like  a 
recollection  of  a  line  of  Prior.^  The  Prince  seems 
to  have  appreciated  Mme.  Lebrun,  who  painted 
a  three-quarters  picture  of  him  for  Mrs.  Fitz- 
herbert.  His  patronage  was  very  useful  to  her, 
for  when  the  other  emigres^  who  had  not  lived 
more  than  a  year  in  England,  were  hurried  back 
to  France  at  the  rupture  of  the  Treaty  of  Amiens, 
he  obtained  the  King's  permission  for  Mme. 
Lebrun  to  remain  in  this  country  and  travel 
where  she  liked.  No  wonder  that  she  dilates  upon 
his  handsome  presence  and  becoming  Apollo  wig ! 
It  is  time,  however,  to  abridge  the  account,  not 
only  of  Mme.  Lebrun's  English  experiences,  but 
also  of  her  further  career.  Shortly  after  Bonaparte 
had  been  proclaimed  Emperor,  she  returned  to 
France  to  meet  her  daughter,  who  had  arrived  from 
Russia — without  her  husband.  Mme.  Catalan!, 
whose  portrait  Mme.  Lebrun  painted,  was  then 
the  rage  in  Paris;  and  she  found  a  fresh  interest 
in  a  new  exponent  of  Racine,  Mile.  Duchesnois, 
to  whom  her  brother  had  given  lessons  in  declama- 

^  'They  were  but  my  Visits;  but  Thou  art  my  Home.' 
'  A  Better  Answer  (/.f .,  to  Cloe,  Jealous.).' 


Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun  109 


tion.  She  also  painted  Bonaparte's  sister  Caroline 
(Mme.  Murat)  by  command  of  the  Emperor — a 
task  not  without  tracas^  owing  to  the  vagaries  of 
the  sitter.  In  1808-9  she  visited  Switzerland, 
commemorating  her  travels  in  a  sequence  of  letters 
to  the  Countess  Potoclca.  Save  for  the  fact  that 
she  visited  Voltaire's  house  at  Ferney,  and  painted 
Mme.  de  Stael  at  Coppet  as  '  Corinne,'  these  re- 
cords are  only  mildly  interesting.  When  she  got 
back,  she  bought  a  little  country  house  at  Louve- 
ciennes,  a  village  on  the  Seine,  not  far  from  the 
familiar  Marly  Woods,  and  that  now  wrecked  and 
ruined  Pavilion  where  she  had  formerly  painted 
Mme.  Du  Barry.  Here  she  usually  spent  eight 
months  of  the  year.  In  18 13  M.  Lebrun  died. 
In  18 14  she  was  plundered  by  the  Allies;  but 
with  the  later  overthrow  of  Bonaparte  and  the 
restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  her  life  no  longer 
touches  history.  In  181 9,  she  lost  her  daughter; 
in  1820,  her  brother.  After  this,  she  made  her 
last  voyage  of  recuperation — to  Bordeaux;  and 
the  close  of  her  memories  discovers  her  living  in 
tranquillity,  tended  carefully  by  two  nieces,  one 
of  whom,  Mme.  J.Tripier-Le  Franc,  was  an  artist 
like  herself. 

Mme.   Lebrun's  'Souvenirs'   proper,    as    dis- 
ting-uished  from  her  earlier  letters  to  the  Princess 

D 


no  Mine.  Vigee-Lebrun 

Kourakin,  must  have  been  written  subsequent  to 
1 83 1,  when  the  Princess  died.  Probably  they 
belong  to  1834-35,  since  they  refer  to  the  death, 
in  June  of  the  latter  year,  of  the  artist  Gros,  a  life- 
long friend,  whom  in  his  childhood  she  had  painted. 
In  1835  she  was  eighty.  She  still  practised  her 
calling,  for  she  had  passed  that  age  when  she  de- 
picted the  legitimist  Poujoulat.  But  her  powers 
were  waning.  Jean  Gigoux,  the  popular  illustrator 
of  '  Gil  Bias,'  says  in  his  '  Causeries '  that  her 
work  had  lost  much  of  its  ancient  charm;  but 
that  she  herself  had  retained  all  the  grace,  and 
even  the  gay  vivacity  of  her  youth.  As  an  octo- 
genarian she  still  resembled  her  picture  of  more 
than  forty  years  before.  Her  %alon  continued  to 
be  assiduously  frequented  by  beautiful  women  and 
distinguished  men,  to  whom  she  never  wearied  in 
talking  of  Marie  Antoinette.  Once  Gigoux  heard 
her  exchanging  reminiscences  of  Danton  and 
Philippe-Egalite  with  the  elder  Berryer  (who  was 
also  writing  his  rather  dull '  Memoirs'),  as  if  they 
were  speaking  of  yesterday.  An  editorial  postscript 
to  the  *  Souvenirs  '  gives  a  few  further  particulars. 
She  died  at  Paris,  in  her  eighty-eighth  year,  in  the 
Rue  Saint-Lazare;  and  she  was  buried  at  Louve- 
ciennes,  to  the  old  thirteenth-century  church  of 
which  she  had  presented  a  picture  of  St.  Genevieve, 


Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun  1 1 1 

which  procured  for  her  a  metrical  tribute  from 
Mme.  de  Genlis.  Not  many  of  her  six  hundred 
and  sixty  portraits  had  gained  harbourage  in  the 
public  galleries  of  France  during  her  chequered 
lifetime;  and  it  was  by  the  pious  generosity  of 
her  heirs  that  her  own  likeness,  and  the  '  Girl 
with  the  MufF,'  found  their  final  resting-place  in 
the  Louvre. 


SIR  JOHN  HAWKINS,  KNIGHT 

IF,  to  quote  a  rough-and-ready  definition,  an 
'  agreeable  '  man  is  a  man  that  agrees  with 
you,  then  Sir  John  Hawkins,  otherwise  known 
as  *the  Knight,'  must  have  been  exceptionally 
ill-qualified  for  any  such  characterization.  Unless 
he  is  grossly  belied,  in  neither  of  the  accepted 
senses  of  the  term  can  he  be  said  to  have  '  agreed ' 
with  his  contemporaries.  Johnson,  using  a  word 
which,  like  *  derange,'  he  excluded  from  his 
'  Dictionary,'  spoke  of  him  to  Mrs.  Thrale  and 
Fanny  Burney  in  1778  as  *  most  unclubahW — 
such  being  the  exact  opposite  of  the  caressing 
epithet  he  coined  for  Hawkins's  rival,  Boswell. 
He  further  described  him  fantastically  as  follows: 
'  I  believe  him  to  be  an  honest  man  at  the  bottom; 
but  to  be  sure  he  is  penurious,  and  he  is  mean, 
and  it  must  be  owned  he  has  a  degree  of  brutality, 
and  a  tendency  to  savageness,  that  cannot  easily 
be  defended.'  The  charge  of  meanness,  Miss 
Burney  explains,  seems  to  have  been  based  upon 
Hawkins's  refusal,  when  a  member  of  a  club  to 

112 


Sir  John  Hawkins,  KnigJu  113 

which  he  and  Johnson  had  formerly  belonged,  to 
pay  his  share  of  the  common  supper  on  the 
ground  that  he  never  ate  it.  Johnson  was,  how- 
ever, by  far  the  most  indulgent  of  '  the  Knight's  ' 
critics.  In  a  letter  to  Twining,  Dr.  Burney 
roundly  accuses  Hawkins  of  burying  Johnson  in 
the  cheapest  possible  manner.  And  Malone,  in 
the  'Maloniana,'  collects  a  larger  chaplet  of  dis- 
praise. Percy,  he  tells  us,  '  concurred  with  every 
other  person  I  have  heard  speak  of  Hawkins,  in 
saying  that  he  was  a  most  detestable  fellow.' 
Samuel  Dyer,  another  witness,  declared  that 
Hawkins  was  'a  man  of  the  most  mischievous, 
uncharitable,  and  malignant  disposition';  while 
Sir  Joshua  {apud  Malone)  regarded  him  as  one 
who, '  though  he  assumed  great  outward  sanctity, 
was  not  only  mean  and  grovelling  in  disposition, 
but  absolutely  dishonest.'  Reynolds  also  strongly 
condemned  his  behaviour  as  Johnson's  executor, 
particularly  his  shabbiness  in  charging  his  coach 
hire  when  attending  the  meetings.  Last  comes 
Boswell,  who,  though  he  admits  that,  in  conse- 
quence of  Hawkins's  death,  he  had  suppressed 
much  that  he  could — '  an  he  wovild ' — have  said, 
still  lays  stress  on  his  '  malevolence,'  and  the 
rigid  formality  of  his  character. 

At  this  date,  to  refute  such  a  body  of  adverse 

I 


1 14  Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight 

testimony  would  be  difficult,  even  were  it  de- 
sirable. But,  in  the  spirit  of  that  charitable 
teaching  which  enjoins  us  to  comprehend  rather 
than  condemn,  it  is  only  fair  to  note  that  most 
of  the  witnesses  cited  were  by  no  means  un- 
prejudiced. Johnson,  moreover,  was  humorously 
exaggerating.  'We  all  laughed,  as  he  meant  we 
should,'  says  Miss  Burney,  in  chronicling  his 
words;  and  Mrs.  Thrale  had  previously  bracketed 
Hawkins  with  Garrick  as  one  of  those  whom 
Johnson  suffered  nobody  to  abuse  but  himself — 
certainly  an  indirect,  if  embarrassing,  evidence  of 
his  regard.  Dyer  disliked  Hawkins  as  a  precisian, 
and  Hawkins  disliked  Dyer  as  a  materialist. 
Percy's  account  was  mere  hearsay  from  Dyer. 
Reynolds,  a  generous  but  unbusinesslike  man, 
had,  with  Hawkins,  been  Johnson's  executor;  and 
he  had  fretted  over  Hawkins's  ultra-legal  con- 
duct of  affairs.  Boswell  was  not  merely  a  rival 
biographer,  but  his  vanity  had  been  sorely 
wounded  by  the  curt  way  in  which  Hawkins, 
in  his  '  Life  of  Johnson,'  had  spoken  of  him  as 
'  Mr,  James  Boswell,  a  native  of  Scotland,' — a 
compliment  which  he  had  been  at  pains  to  return 
by  calling  Hawkins,  when  later  enumerating  the 
members  of  the  Ivy  Lane  Club,  no  more  than 
*  Mr.   John    Hawkins,   an    attorney.'     Probably 


Sh  John  Hawkins^  Knight  115 

Hawkins's  gravest  sins  are  summed  up  in  John- 
son's epithet.  It  is  clear  that  he  never  can  have 
been  what  Goldsmith  styles  a  '  choice  spirit.' 
Parsimony  and  pomposity  find  no  favour  at  con- 
vivial meetings  J  nor  'when  the  Rose  reigns'  is 
the  part  of  '  rigid  Cato '  a  popular  impersonation. 
Nevertheless,  the  fact  that  Hawkins  was  elected 
an  original  member  both  of  the  'Club'  and  of 
its  Ivy  Lane  predecessor  must  be  allowed  as 
proof  of  the  possession  on  his  part  of  some 
modicum  at  least  of  those  intellectual  qualities 
which  Johnson  regarded  as  indispensable  in  his 
companions.  And  he  was  clearly  not  lacking  in 
ability,  as  even  Percy  admits.  Besides  being  a 
creditable  citizen  and  an  excellent  magistrate,  he 
was  well  and  accurately  informed  on  many  sub- 
jects.^ As  an  enthusiastic  fisherman,  he  prepared 
and   annotated   what   is  virtually   the   'pioneer' 

^  '  I  remember  his  [Percy's]  saying,  when  he  had  joined 
us  one  morning  in  St.  James's  Park,  "I  love  to  ask  you  a 
question.  Sir  John,  for  if  you  cannot  tell  me  what  I  want 
to  know,  you  can  always  tell  me  where  to  search  for  it." ' 
('Anecdotes' etc.  by  Laetitia  Maria  Hawkins,  1822,  p.  315). 
This  book,  and  the  two  subsequent  volumes  of '  Memoirs,' 
etc.,  1 8  2+,  are  full  of  interesting,  if  somewhat  spiteful,  ana. 
Miss  Hawkins  lived  many  years  at  2,  Sion  Row,  Twicken- 
ham, where  she  died  in  November  1835,  aged  75.  There 
is  a  tablet  to  her  memory  in  Twickenham  Church. 


Ii6  Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight 

edition  of  Walton  and  Cotton's  'Angler';  as  a 
lover  of"  music,  he  compiled  a  history  of  that  art, 
which  is  a  storehouse  of  laboriously  collected  in- 
formation; and  finally,  as  Johnson's  sometime 
associate  and  executor,  he  wrote  a  life  of  the 
Doctor  which,  in  spite  of  the  supreme  and  over- 
shadowing effect  of  Boswell's  later  book,  is  still 
worth  reading  for  the  out  of  the  way  particulars 
it  preserves  concerning  the  seamier  side  of  eight- 
eenth century  life  and  letters.  If  it  is  not  possible, 
on  general  groimds,  to  make  a  very  sympathetic 
study  of  its  author,  it  should  not  be  difficult  to 
do  him  rather  more  justice  than  has  hitherto 
fallen  to  his  share. 

The  Hawkinses  claimed  direct  descent  from  that 
bluff  old  Elizabethan  admiral  whom  Kingsley, 
at  the  close  of  '  Westward  Ho! '  shows  us,  in  the 
Pelican  Inn  at  Plymouth,  testifying  vigorously 
against  croakers — a  hearty  English  practice  which, 
it  is  to  be  hoped,  will  not  be  suffered  to  die  out. 
But  the  family  must  have  declined  since  the 
Armada  days,  for  in  March  17 19,  when  our  Sir 
John  Hawkins  was  born,  his  father,  like  Richard- 
son's, was  a  house-carpenter,  who,  however,  after- 
wards rose  to  be  a  surveyor  and  builder.  His 
son,  who  had  been  taught  by  Hoppus  (of  the 
'  Measurer '),  intended  at  first  to  follow  in  his 


Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight  WJ 

footsteps.  But  he  had  acquired  some  knowledge 
of  Latin,  and  was  eventually  articled  to  John 
Scott,  a  Bishopsgate  attorney — 'a  hard  task- 
master and  a  penurious  housekeeper,'  who  must, 
if  we  believe  Malone  and  the  rest,  have  com- 
municated some  of  his  idiosyncrasy  to  his  sub- 
ordinate. Under  what  Miss  Hawkins  calls  '  the 
variegated  tyranny'  of  this  employer,'  Hawkins 
continued  his  self-education;  and  eventually 
began  to  dabble  in  letters,  sending  papers  and 
verses  to  Sylvanus  Urban.  Moralist  from  the 
outset,  his  earliest  prose  effort  is  said  to  have 
been  an  untraced  essay  on  '  Swearing.'  His  next, 
on  '  Honesty,'  appeared  in  the  '  Gentleman's '  for 
March  1739,  to  which  Johnson  was  contributing 
his  life  of  the  Dutch  savant  Boerhaave;  and  it 
is  characteristic  of  the  argumentative  spirit  attri- 
buted to  Hawkins  that  it  provoked  a  controversy, 
'continued  through  the  magazines  for  several 
succeeding  months.'  Music  next  attracted  his 
attention.  He  became  a  member  of  the  Madrigal 
Society,  and  tlie  earlier  Academy  of  Ancient 
Music;  and  he  began  to  write  cantatas  for 
Vauxhall  and  Ranelagh,  which  were  set  by  John 
Stanley,  the  blind  organist  of  the  Temple  Church. 
In  1749,  being  by  that  time  fairly  well  known 
'  '  Anecdotes,'  etc.,  by  L.  M.  Hawkins,  1822,  p.  125. 


1 1 8  Sir  John  Haiukins,  Knight 

as  a  lawyer  and  a  man  of  taste,  he  was  invited  by- 
Johnson,  whose  acquaintance  he  must  have  made 
in  connection  with  Cave's  magazine,  to  join  the 
club  then  held  at  the  King's  Head  in  Ivy  Lane, 
Paternoster  Row.  Four  years  later  he  married  a 
*  fortune,'  in  the  person  of  Miss  Sidney  Storer, 
of  Highgate — a  fortune  subsequently  much  in- 
creased by  the  death  of  his  brother-in-law. 
Boswell  maliciously  alleged  that  Miss  Storer  was 
an  old  woman,  whose  money  was  her  attraction. 
This  is  untrue;  for  she  was  not  only  very  pretty, 
but  several  years  younger  than  Hawkins,  who 
was  thirty-four.  His  marriage  made  him  com- 
fortably independent.  Selling  his  business  in 
Austin  Friars,  he  bought  a  spacious  country- 
house  at  Twickenham  which  included  a  concert- 
room;  leased  a  town  residence  in  Hatton  Garden 
(then  overlooking  the  pleasant  plains  of  Penton- 
ville!);  and  settled  down  to  devote  himself  per- 
manently to  his  two  hobbies,  music  and  fishing. 

That  in  such  circumstances  he  should  return 
to  letters  was  perhaps  inevitable,  as  also  that  his 
first  considerable  effort  should  be  an  edition  of 
Walton,  who  was  then  not  so  well  known  as 
now.  Ten  years  earlier  a  certain  egregious  Moses 
Browne,  a  Clerkenwell  '  pen-cutter,'  author  of 
'Piscatory  Eclogues'  and  later  Vicar  of  Olney, 


Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight  119 

had  put  forth  an  '  Angler '  on  the  old  arrogant 
eighteenth-century  lines.    In  other  words,  he  had 
freely    'edited'    it,    chopping    and    suppressing, 
pruning  and  improving,  to  suit  his  own  fancy 
and  the  fashion  of  George  II.    He  brought  out  a 
fresh  edition  just  a  year  before  Hawkins  entered 
the  field  in  1760.    Hawkins,  however,  in  advance 
of  his  age,  adopted  the  wiser  method  of  sticking 
closely  to  his  text.    What  Browne  had  omitted  he 
restored.  He  added  a  painstaking  life  of  Walton, 
procured  from  Oldys  another  of  Walton's  adopted 
son  Cotton,  decorated  his  pages  with  designs  by 
Hayman's  pupil,   Samuel  Wale,  and   altogether 
achieved   a   compilation — in   Johnson's   words — 
'very    diligently    collected    and    very    elegantly 
composed.'    As  might  have  been  anticipated,  it 
involved   him   in   acrimonious   controversy  with 
Browne,    v/ho    accused    him — much    as     Prior 
accused  John  Forster  in   the   matter    of  Gold- 
smith— of  plagiarism  and  borrowing  of  material. 
But,  like  Forster,  Hawkins  eventually  effaced  his 
predecessor,  as   he   deserved   to   do.     In   a   later 
issue  he  substituted  a  new  life  of  Cotton  by  him- 
self for  that  drawn  up  by  Oldys,  and  made  other 
improvements.    That  he  was  originally  attracted 
to  his  task  by  Browne  is  not  unlikely;  but  in  the 
opinion  of  the  late  Thomas  Westwood,  whom 


I20  Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight 

Walton  himself  must  assuredly  have  regarded  as 
a  competent  judge,  the  first  credit  of  worthily  jj 

reviving  Walton's   masterpiece,  and  of  making  fl 

the   first   serious  attempt   at  a  biography  of  its  ' 

author,  belongs  to  Hawkins.^ 

Many  editors — too  many  editors — have  now 
followed  in  this  field,  and  a  large  literature  has 
grown  up  around  the  book  which  Charles  Lamb 
declared  would  *  sweeten  a  man's  temper  at  any 
time  to  read.'  And  it  was  not,  as  might  be  sup- 
posed, with  Richard  Marriot's  original  octavo  of 
1653,  but  with  Hawkins's  version  that  Lamb 
was  most  familiar.  Literspersed  among  the  old 
Titian  and  Leonardo  prints  that  hung  round  the 
little  sitting-room  in  his  Enfield  lodgings,  came 
a  sequence  of  India  ink  copies  from  Wale's  de- 
signs' by  Lamb's  adopted  daughter,  Emma  Isola. 
Lamb  also  possessed  a  battered  early  copy  of 
Hawkins  himself,  which  he  had  picked  up — not 

^  '  Chronicle  of  the  "  Compleat  Angler "  of  Izaak 
Walton  and  Charles  Cotton,'  1864.,  pp.  25,  28. 

^  Wale's  designs  were  first  engraved  by  the  unfortunate 
Ryland,  who  was  hanged  for  forgery  in  1783.  Miss  Isola's 
copies  of  them  were  from  Baxter's  reprint,  for  which  they 
were  re-engraved  by  Philip  Audinet.  Where  are  these 
relics  now  ?  The  pleasant  account  of  Emma  Isola  by  Ellen 
Moxon,  in  the  '  Bookman '  for  December  1909,  contains 
nothing  on  the  subject. 


Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight  I2I 

so  much  of  a  pennyworth  as  he  expected — in 
*  some  ramshackled  repository  of  marine  stores.' 
The  quoted  words  are  Westwood's,  who,  as  a 
boy,  was  for  a  space  Lamb's  housemate  at  En- 
field/ with  free  right  of  access  to  his  '  ragged 
regiment'  of  books.  The  Hawkins  of  1760  was 
a  special  favourite  with  young  Westwood,  who 
was  wont  to  read  it  '  on  the  forked  branch  of  an 
ancient  apple-tree,  in  the  little  overgrown  orchard' 
at  the  back  of  the  house,  whence  he  was  just  high 
enough  to  watch  below  him  EHa's  'quaint,  schol- 
astic figure,'  pacing  backwards  and  forwards,  on 
what  Hood  called  'almost  immaterial  legs';  while, 
by  craning  his  neck,  he  could  dimly  catch  in  the 
distance  the  marshy  levels  of  Walton's  river  Lea. 
One  owes  a  lasting  debt  of  gratitude  to  'the 
Knight'  for  originating  such  a  memory! 

In  1760  Hawkins  had  been  a  year  at  Twicken- 
ham, and  had  made  the  acquaintance,  at  Straw- 
berry Hill,  of  his  virtuoso  neighbour,  Horace 
Walpole,  who  does  not  seem  to  have  felt  for  him 
the  repugnance  manifested  by  some  of  the  author- 
ities already  quoted,  although  Horace  himself  was 
as  opposed  to  anghng  as  Byron  and  Leigh  Hunt. 
Writing  to  Sir  David  Dalrymple,  in  June,  he 
refers  to  the  new  edition  of  Walton  '  by  Mr. 
'   His  father  was  Lamb's  landlord. 


122  Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight 

Hawkins,  a  very  worthy  gentleman  in  my  neigh- 
bourhood, who,  I  could  wish,  did  not  think 
angling  so  very  innocent  an  amusement.'  In  the 
following  year,  upon  the  recommendation  of  an- 
other Twickenham  resident,  Paul  Whitehead, 
Hawkins  was  made  a  Justice  of  Peace  for  Middle- 
sex, and  immediately  became  an  active  magistrate. 
According  to  Walpole,  although  'a  very  honest 
moral  man,'  he  was  extremely  'obstinate  and  con- 
tentious,' qualities  which  made  him  *  hated  by 
the  lower  class '  and  '  troublesome  to  the  gentry.' 
But  about  his  judicial  capacity  there  can  be  no 
doubt.  He  wrote  a  pamphlet  on  the  highways, 
coupling  with  it  a  suggested  Bill,  which  later  be- 
came law ;  and  he  afterwards  successfully  opposed 
a  scheme  for  penalizing  the  county  in  order  to 
pay  for  the  rebuilding  of  Newgate,  an  exploit 
which  led  to  his  being  chosen  (like  Fielding  be- 
fore him)  Chairman  of  Quarter  Sessions  at  Hicks's 
Hall.  Like  Fielding  again,  he  wrote  a  memorable 
Charge  to  the  Grand  Jury ;  and  he  showed  such 
energy  and  decision  in  dealing  with  the  Wilkes 
riots  of  1768-9  —  especially  at  Brentford  and 
Moorfields — that  he  was  subsequently  knighted 
by  George  HI.  On  this  occasion  he  was  intro- 
duced to  his  Majesty  by  the  Earl  of  Rochford, 
then  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Northern  Depart- 


Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight  123 

ment,  as  *the  best  magistrate  in  the  kingdom' — 
a  recommendation  which  may  perhaps  be  held 
to  preclude  any  great  popularity. 

But  petty  litigation,  the  suppression  of  disorder, 
and  the  glories  of  going  to  Hicks 's  Hall  in  a  coach 
and  four,  do  not  seem  to  have  entirely  diverted 
Hawkins  from  the  cultivation  of  the  severer 
Muses.  Shortly  after  the  appearance  of  the  edition 
of  the  'Complete  Angler,'  Walpole  had  suggested 
to  him  that  he  should  undertake  the  'History  of 
Music' — a  subject  then  very  much  in  the  air  both 
at  home  and  abroad.  For  this  task  he  was  not 
without  rudimentary  qualifications.  He  was  a 
painstaking  inquirerj  he  had — as  we  have  seen — 
been  an  early  member  of  the  Madrigal  Society; 
he  was  interested  in  the  Academy  of  Ancient 
Music,  and  he  had  known  one  of  its  founders, 
the  learned  theorist  John  Christopher  Pepusch, 
organist  of  the  Charterhouse,  and  husband  of  the 
famous  singer,  Margarita  de  I'Epine.  Indeed 
a  great  deal  of  Hawkins's  material  was  derived 
from  the  collections  he  had  formerly  purchased 
from  Pepusch,  and  transferred  in  after  years  to 
the  British  Museum.  He  was  also  largely  indebted 
to  that  canorous  minor  canon,  the  Rev.  William 
Gostling  of  Canterbury,  who  turned  Hogarth's 
'Five     Days'    Tour'    into    Hudibrastics.      His 


124  Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight 

labours  must  have  begun  as  early  as  January 
1 761,  in  which  month  Walpole  writes  to  Mann 
at  Florence  for  a  number  of  Italian  books  on 
music,  specially  intended  for  his  Twickenham 
neighbour.  Hawkins  worked  assiduously  at  his 
task  for  several  years,  continuing  it  with  increased 
ardour  after  his  knighthood,  when  he  visited  the 
Bodleian  and  other  libraries,  copying  portraits  and 
consulting  authorities. 

In  1776  the  book  at  last  appeared,  in  five  quarto 
volumes,  and  in  December  of  that  year  Walpole 
thus  writes  of  it  to  Lady  Ossory:  'I  have  been 
three  days  at  Strawberry,  and  have  not  seen  a 
creature  but  Sir  John  Hawkins's  five  volumes, 
the  two  last  of  which,  thumping  as  they  are,  I 
literally  did  read  in  two  days.  They  are  old 
books  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  very  old  books ; 
and  what  is  new,  is  like  old  books,  too,  that  is, 
full  of  minute  facts  that  delight  antiquaries;  nay, 
if  there  had  never  been  such  things  as  parts  and 
taste,  this  work  would  please  everybody.  The 
first  volume  is  extremely  worth  looking  at^  for  the 
curious  facsimiles  of  old  music  and  old  instru- 
ments, and  so  is  the  second.  The  third  is  very 
heavy;  the  two  last  will  amuse  you,  I  think,  ex- 
ceedingly, at  least  they  do  me.'  And  then,  in  his 
light  but  penetrating  way,  he  goes  on  to  touch 


Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight  125 

upon  some  of  Sir  John's  'anfractuosities ':  'My 
friend,  Sir  John,  is  a  matter-of-fact  man,  and 
does  now  and  then  stoop  very  low  in  quest  of 
game.  Then  he  is  so  exceedingly  religious  and 
grave  as  to  abhor  mirth,  except  if  it  is  printed  in 
the  old  black  letter,  and  then  he  calls  the  most 
vulgar  ballad  pleasant  and  full  of  humour.  He 
thinks  nothing  can  be  sublime  but  an  anthem, 
and  Handel's  choruses  heaven  upon  earth.  How- 
ever, he  writes  with  great  moderation,  temper, 
and  good  sense,  and  the  book  is  a  very  valuable 
one.  I  have  begged  his  austerity  to  relax  on  one 
point,  for  he  ranks  comedy  with  farce  and  panto- 
mime. Now  I  hold  a  perfect  comedy  to  be  the 
perfection  of  human  composition,  and  believe 
firmly  that  fifty  "  Iliads  "  and  "^Eneids  "  could  be 
written  sooner  than  such  a  character  as  FalstafF's. 
Sir  John  says  that  Dr.  Wallis  discovered  that 
they  who  are  not  charmed  with  music  want  a 
nerve  in  their  brain.  This  would  be  dangerous 
anatomy.  I  should  swear  Sir  John  wants  the 
comic  nerve.  .  .  .' ' 

There  is  more  in  this  of  Hawkins's  character 
than  in  all  Malone's  anthology  of  abuse. 

In  a  letter  of  six  days  later  to  Cole  the  anti- 
quary, Walpole  predicts  that  the  book  would  not 

^  Toynbee's  '  Walpole's  Letters,'  ix  (1904.),  pp.  4+5-6. 


1 26  Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight 

sell  rapidly,  and  it  did  not.  Its  bulk  was  against 
it,  as  much  as  its  style;  and  it  was  'cruelly  and 
unwarrantably'  attacked  in  the  'St.  James's 
Chronicle '  by  that  scourge  of  authors,  '  the  asp, 
George  Steevens.'  Moreover,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  Walton,  there  was  another  Richmond  in 
the  field.  In  the  same  year  appeared  the  first 
volume  of  Dr.  Burney's  '  General  History  of 
Music,'  which  was  strong  where  Hawkins  was 
weak.  Dr.  Burney,  besides  being  the  'clever  dog' 
that  Johnson  called  him,  was  a  professional;  and 
he  was  a  far  better  writer  than  his  rival,  though 
he  was  hasty  in  his  judgments,  and  not  always 
thorough.  But  he  had  a  bustling,  genial  person- 
ality; and,  for  the  time,  the  popular  voice  put  the 
first  instalment  of  the  work  above  the  completed 
labours  of  Hawkins.  A  contemporary  rhymester 
contrasted  the  pair  as  follows : 

Have  you  Sir  John  Hawkins'  histr'y? 
Some  folks  think  it  quite  a  myst'ry. 
Music  filled  his  wondrous  brain  ; 
How  d'ye  hke  him?    Is  it  plain? 
Both  I've  read,  and  must  agree, 
That  Burney's  Hist'ry  pleases  me. 
Sir  John  Hawkins, — Sir  John  Hawkins, 
How  d'ye  like  him?  how  d'ye  like  him? 
Burney's  Hist'ry — Burney's  Hist'ry, 
Burney's  Hist'ry  pleases  me. 


Sir  John  Hawkins ^  Knight  127 

Report  affirmed  that  these  artless  verses,  in  which, 
as  the  sagacious  reader  will  perceive,  '  Burney's 
History'  must  be  read  as  Burn  his  [i.e.  Hawkins's) 
History,  ruined  the  sale  of  the  rival  book.  But 
Report,  as  frequently,  is  at  fault.  Whenever  they 
were  written,  they  were  not  set  by  Dr.  Callcott 
as  a  'Glee  for  three  Voices'  until  1789,  when 
Burney's  book  was  finished. ^  They  then  obtained 
the  prize  of  the  Catch  Club.  In  the  event,  how- 
ever, the  tortoise  won  the  race.  Burney's  brilliant 
volumes  never  passed  into  a  second  edition,  while 
Hawkins  was  reprinted  by  Novello  as  late  as  1875. 
During  theyears  covered  by  the  compiling  of  the 
*  History  of  Music,'  Hawkins's  only  other  literary 
occupation,  except  some  notes  contributed  to  the 
Shakespeareof  Johnson  andSteevens,  which  bear  his 
name,-  was  an  anonymous  '  Account  of  the  Acad- 
emy of  Ancient  Music,'  undertaken  and  circulated 

1  So  indeed  the  verses  imply  by  their  ^ Both  I've  read' 
(see  'Early  Diary  of  Frances  Burney,'  1907,  ii,  p.  agw.). 

^  These  secured  his  admission  into  that  pack,  of '  black- 
letter-dogs  '  who,  under  guise  of  commentators,  hunt 
Actaeon- Shakespeare  to  death  in  the  first  part  of  the 
'  Pursuits  of  Literature': 

^  As  bolus  Hawkins,  a  grim  shaggy  hound, 
In  musick  growls,  and  beats  the  bushes  round.' 
A  note  saysthat  the  last  four  words  are  '  descriptive  of  Sir  John 
Hawkins's  "  History  of  Musick  "  ;  in  which,  however,  there 


128  Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight 

to  prevent  the  dissolution  of  that  institution.  The 
most  important  event  of  this  period,  hou^ever,  was 
his  brief  connection  with  the  famous  '  Club '  later 
known  as  the  Literary  Club,  established  in  1764, 
of  which  he  was  one  of  the  nine  original  members, 
the  others  being  Reynolds  (the  founder),  Johnson, 
Burke,  Dr.  Nugent  (Burke's  father-in-law),  Gold- 
smith, Chamier,  Beauclerk,  and  Langton.  To 
these  was  afterwards  added  Samuel  Dyer,  a  former 
member  of  the  Ivy  Lane  Club.  They  met  on 
Mondays  at  the  Turk's  Head  in  Gerrard  Street, 
Soho.  '  Our  discourse,' — writes  Hawkins  in  his 
'Life  of  Johnson' — 'was  miscellaneous,  but  chiefly 
literary.  Politics,  the  most  vulgar  of  all  topics  [!], 
were  alone  excluded.  On  that  subject  most  of  us 
were  of  the  same  opinion.  The  British  lion  was 
licking  his  wounds  [this  was  after  the  Seven  Years' 
War],  and  we  drank  to  the  peace  of  old  England.' 
Hawkins's  membership,  like  Dyer's,  was  no  doubt 
primarily  due  to  his  earlier  relations  with  the  Ivy 
Lane  gathering;  but  his  attendances  seem  speedily 
to  have  grown   irregular.    '  Hawkins  is  remiss,' 

is  much  valuable  information,  as  in  all  his  other  works,  so 
unjustly  censured  in  my  opinion.  Sir  John's  principal  fault 
was  digression  irom  his  subject ;  but  if  you  excuse  that,  you 
are  well  repaid  by  the  information  you  receive'  (p.  98, 
tenth  ed.  1799). 


Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight  129 

writes  Johnson  two  years  later  to  Langton ;  and 
in  1768  he  ceased  to  attend  altogether.  Percy, 
who  succeeded  to  the  vacancy,  and  whose  account 
is  confirmed  by  Reynolds, asserts  that '  the  Knight ' 
displeased  the  members  by  discourtesy  to  Burke, 
and  that  they  testified  their  sense  of  this  in  such  a 
way  as  to  bring  about  his  resignation.  Hawkins, 
of  course,  professes  to  have  withdrawn  of  his  own 
accord ;  and  the  *  oeconomy  of  his  family,'  to  a  man 
living  part  of  the  year  at  Twickenham,  might  well 
have  been  incompatiblewiththeunseasonable  hours, 
though  he  also  hints  darkly  (in  his  second  edition) 
at  the  threatened  subversion  of  the  society  by  un- 
desirable accessions  to  its  numbers.  According  to 
his  daughter,  he  also  resented  the  monopolizing  of 
the  conversation  by  Burke  and  Johnson ;  and,  as 
was  perhaps  to  be  expected  from  a  very  magisterial 
magistrate  and  man  of  means,  regarded  the  former, 
at  this  date,  as  no  more  than  an  '  Irish  adventurer.' 
But  whether  he  'seceded  '  from,  or  whether  he  was 
turned  out  of  the  Gerrard  Street  community,  the 
conflicting  constructions  placed  on  that  mishap  by 
those  concerned,  present  an  odd  kind  of  resem- 
blance to  the  inimitable  but  unpublished  chapter 
of  'Edwin  Drood'  which  recounts  'How  Mr. 
Sapsea  ceased  to  be  a  member  of  the  Eight  Club.'  ^ 
1  Forster's  ♦  Life  of  Dickens,'  Bk.  XI,  ch.  ii. 
K 


130  Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight 

If  these  things  affected  his  relations  with  John- 
son, the  fact  has  not  been  recorded.  Boswell,  who 
only  became  known  to  the  great  man  in  1763, 
says :  *  I  never  saw  Sir  John  Hawkins  in  Dr.  John- 
son's company,  I  think,  but  once,  and  I  am  sure  not 
above  twice.'  Boswell  manifestly  does  not  choose 
to  believe  they  were  ever  really  intimate,  an  opinion 
which  is  echoed  by  Malone.  But  there  are  plenty 
of  evidences  of  Johnson's  visits  to  Hawkins,  and 
of  Hawkins's  visits  to  Johnson.  No  doubt  few  let- 
ters passed  between  them,  if  we  are  to  judge  by 
the  small  number  which  have  been  preserved. 
Johnson's  friendship  with  '  the  Knight,'  however, 
went  back  to  1 749,  and  perhaps  much  earlier,  when 
they  were  both  contributors  to  Cave's  magazine; 
and  the  Ivy  Lane  Club  itself  was  established  more 
than  fifteen  years  before  Boswell  first  saw  Johnson 
in  Davies'  shop.  Hawkins,  too,  was  one  of  those 
members  of  the  Ivy  Lane  Club  who,  at  Johnson's 
instance,  had  celebrated  the  success  of  Mrs.  Le- 
nox's '  Harriot  Stuart '  in  1751  by  an  all-night  sit- 
ting at  the  Devil  Tavern  to  the  accompaniment 
of  hot  apple-pie  and  bay-leaves,  and  there  is  no 
record  that  he  was  either  expelled  or  withdrew 
from  the  association  before  it  broke  up  in  1756. 
In  1783,  long  after  he  had  left  the  Literary  Club, 
we  find  Johnson  still  writing  to  him  kindly  to  pro- 


Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight  131 

pose  that  the  surviving  members  of  the  Ivy  Lane 
Club  should  dine  together  'for  old  sake's  sake'; 
and  they  did  in  effect  so  dine  more  than  once,  break- 
ing up,  however,  far  too  early  for  the  sick  and 
solitary  old  man.  A  year  later,  when  Johnson  was 
visibly  failing,  and  Boswell,  whose  vanity  had  been 
wounded  by  some  reproof,  was  sulking  in  Scotland, 
Johnson  wrote  again  to  Hawkins  from  Lichfield, 
begging  him  to  visit  him  at  Bolt  Court,  'and  give 
him  the  benefit  of  his  advice  and  the  consolation 
of  his  company.'  In  the  following  month  he  died, 
before  Boswell,  unfortunately  for  himself,  had  re- 
gained his  equanimity.  It  was  consequently  Haw- 
kins who  was  prominently  about  Johnson  in  his 
last  days;  Hawkins,  who  eventually  induced  him 
to  make  his  will ;  and  Hawkins,  who  became  the 
most  active  of  his  three  executors. 

For  those  who  credit  all  the  bedside  gossip,  some 
of '  the  Knight's '  exertions  in  this  capacity  must 
have  been — to  say  the  least — '  obnoxious  to  cen- 
sure.' He  was  suspected,  among  other  things,  of 
surreptitiously  appropriating  a  quarto  manuscript 
volume  containing  some  valuable  autobiographical 
recollections  by  Johnson,  an  act  which  was  at  once 
ofiiciously  reported  to  the  invalid,  who  was  much 
disturbed  by  it.  But  Hawkins  promptly  justified 
himself  by  so  adroit  a  penitential  letter  explaining 


132  Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight 

he  had  simply  intended  to  preserve  the  volume 
from  a  possible  depredator  (who  is  understood  to 
have  been  George  Steevens),  that  Johnson  not  only 
unreservedly  accepted  his  explanation,  but  praised 
the  manner  of  ittoLangton.  The  occurrence, how- 
ever, maliciously  heightened,  gave  great  amusement 
to  the  quidnuncs.^  Another  incident,  probably 
also  transformed  by  tittle-tattle,  took  place  in  con- 
nection with  Johnson's  watch, — a  rather  valuable 
tortoise-shell  timekeeper  by  Mudge  and  Dutton, 
for  which  in  1768  the  Doctor  had  paid  seventeen 
guineas.  This  relic,  Malone  asserts,  Hawkins 
wished  to  secure  as  a  solatium  for  his  services  as 
executor;  and,  no  doubt,  he  meant  to  pay  for  it. 
But  his  colleagues  regarded  it  as  properly  reverting 
to  the  residuary  legatee,  Johnson's  servant,  Francis 
Barber,  a  black  man,  to  whom,  rather  against 
Hawkins's  judgment,  Johnson  had  left  the  bulk  of 
his  property.  Hawkins  naturally  says  nothing  of 
this  matter;  and  Barber  got  the  watch,  which  he 
sold  later  to  a  Lichfield  canon.  The  story,  how- 
'  It  may  be  added  that  the  volume,  or  volumes,  for  there 
were  two,  were  objects  of  much  anxious  solicitude  to  the 
Doctor's  friends.  Boswell  himself  confessed  to  Johnson  that 
he  had  been  sorely  tempted  to  steal  them,  and  never  see  him 
more.  '  Upon  my  enquiring  how  this  would  have  affected 
him,  "  Sir  ''  (said  he),  "  I  believe  I  should  have  gone  mad." ' 
The  books  were  apparently  destroyed. 


Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight  133 

ever,  decorated  to  fancy,  went  abroad ;  and  Person 
later  made  it  the  theme  of  a  witty  but  now  for- 
gotten squib  in  the  '  Gentleman's  Magazine.' 
Another  charge,  already  referred  to,  is  that  Haw- 
kins caused  Johnson,  from  motives  of  economy, 
to  be  '  unworthily  interred '  in  the  Abbey  by 
omitting  the  anthem  and  choral  service  at  his 
funeral,  a  thing  for  which  the  Dean  and  Chapter 
were  subsequently  blamed  in  the  public  prints. 
But  here  Hawkins  could  scarcely  have  acted  with- 
out the  concurrence  of  his  co-executors,  Reynolds 
and  Scott;  and, as  we  are  expressly  informed,  the 
expenses  amounted  to  more  than  £^100} 

According  to  Miss  Hawkins,  Sir  John,  having 
resolved  soon  after  the  death  of  Johnson  to  write 
his  biography,  was  almost  simultaneously  invited, 
on  behalf  of  the  London  booksellers,  to  undertake 
that  task  as  an  introduction  to  an  edition  of  the 
Doctor's  complete  works.  For  this  he  was  to  re- 
ceive two  hundred  pounds.  He  accepted  the  pro- 
posal, and  began  forthwith.  As  in  the  cases  of  the 
Walton  and  the  '  History  of  Music,'  his  theme  was 
occupying,  or  had  recently  occupied,  other  persons, 
who  were  all  of  them  unlikely  to  be  well  disposed 
to  an  executor  with  special  privileges.  Mrs.  Thrale 
was  preparing  her  lively,  if  not  very  trustworthy, 
'  *  Gentleman's  Magazine,'  1785,  p.  86. 


134  Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight 

'  Anecdotes  ';  Boswell,  his  *  Journal  of  a  Tour  to 
the  Hebrides,'  with  its  admirable  conversations; 
and  further,  with  Malone's  aid  and  counsel,  he 
was  making  way  with  that  larger  '  Life '  he  had 
announced  as  in  progress.  Cook,  Tyers,  Shaw, 
and  Towers  had  all  their  turns  and  advocates. 
Added  to  these  things,  Hawkins,  with  obvious  ad- 
vantages, had  obvious  defects.  He  had  no  con- 
structive power.  He  was  terribly  discursive;  and 
his  discursiveness  was  aggravated  by  the  old  cus- 
tom of  unbroken  narrative.  Anything  sent  him 
ofF  the  track.  As  the  'Monthly  Review'  said, 
with  more  vivacity  than  usually  belonged  to  Mr. 
Griffiths's  meritorious  publication,  'he  talks  at 
large  ...  of  music,  politics,  legal  decisions,  and 
the  arches  of  Blackfriars  bridge.'  It  was  surely 
needless,  even  as  an  illustration  of  Johnson's  De- 
mosthenic manner,  to  fill  twenty  pages  with  the 
reprint  of  speeches  that  were  never  spoken;  or  to 
reproduce  long  extracts  from  the  Harleian  Cata- 
logue which  were  not  by  Johnson  at  all.  Also,  it 
was  equally  irrelevant,  apropos  of  Chesterfield,  to 
discuss  at  length  the  morality  of  the  famous  'Let- 
ters.' Then,  it  must  be  admitted, '  the  Knight'  has 
an  unhappy  knack  of  saying  uncomfortable  things. 
'Souvent  jusque  sur  le  trottoir  II  donne  ses  coups 
de  boutoir.'    No  doubt  his  utterances  express  his 


Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knight  135 

honest  opinion,or  what  he  regarded  as  his  righteous 
indignation;  and,  from  his  point  of  view,  they  are, 
if  arguable,  intelligible.  But  '  nunc  non  erat  his 
locus' — as  his  classic  contemporaries  complained: 
it  is  '  not  honesty  to  have  them  thus  set  down.'  He 
offended  some  readers  at  the  outset,  bysubserviently 
referring,  in  his  Dedication  to  the  King,  to  the 
royal  bounty  which  had  raised  Johnson  from  in- 
digence, whereas  George  III  only  honoured  him- 
self by  bestowing  it.  To  speak  of  the  '  feebleness 
and  inanity'  of  Addison's  style,  with  whatever 
unction  of  compliment  to  his  sentiments  and 
humour,  is  sheer  stupidity;  to  talk  of  Pitt's  'yelp- 
ing pertinacity,'  eight  years  after  Lord  Chatham 
had  been  laid  in  an  honourable  grave,  is  a  clumsily 
gratuitous  instance  of  '  nil  nisi  malum,'  Nor  was 
it  necessary,  in  the  interests  of  propriety,  to  run 
amuck  through  the  great  fictionists  of  the  time. 
All  this  tended  to  increase  the  hostility  of  the 
critics,  with  the  result  that  the  book  was  more 
mercilessly  anatomized  than  any  volume  of  its 
kind.  The  '  Monthly  Review,'  to  which  the  au- 
thor had  been  a  contributor,  gave  it  four  articles; 
and  throughout  the  whole  of  1787  the  'Gentle- 
man's' kept  up  a  dropping  fire  of  criticism,  in- 
cluding the  already  mentioned  paper  by  Porson. 
But  at  this  time  of  day,  apart  from  merits  or 


136  Sir  John  Hawkms,  Knight 

demerits,  there  is  no  doubt  the  '  Life  of  Johnson  ' 
was  not  fairly  treated.  That  much  of  its  material 
was  unassailable,  the  '  Monthly  Review,'  by 
omitting  the  digressions,  sufficiently  demonstrated. 
It  contrived  to  construct  from  Hawkins  a  con- 
tinuous Memoir  which,  even  now,  gives  an 
excellent  account  of  its  subject.  If  Hawkins 
made  mistakes,  they  have  long  ago  been  cor- 
rected ;  and  all  his  competitors  made  mistakes  at 
the  outset.  It  is  not,  however,  with  Hawkins's 
Mife'  that  we  are  at  present  so  much  concerned. 
The  abiding  and  original  side  of  his  labours  is 
just  those  divagations  and  superfluities  which 
disturbed  the  orderly  eighteenth  century  spirit. 
Even  Boswell,  shaking  a  rival  wig  over  the  *  un- 
pardonable inaccuracies,'  is  forced  to  admit  that 
the  book  '  contains  a  collection  of  curious  anec- 
dotes and  observations,  which  ^^^n  men  but  its 
author  could  have  brought  together.'  It  is  to 
these  'curious  anecdotes'  that  the  reader,  who 
knows  all  that  he  cares  to  know  about  Johnson, 
now  turns.  He  likes  to  hear  of  Dodd  and  Savage 
and  Cave;  of  Boyse  and  Amhurst  and  Ralph  and 
the  other  *  authors  by  profession  ' ;  of  Clubs  and 
Taverns,  of  Mrs.  Cornelys  and  the  Cock  Lane 
Ghost,  of  Bookshops  and  Booksellers;  of  the 
rivalry  of  the  '  Gentleman's  '  and  the  '  London  ' 


Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight  137 

magazines;  and  he  may  even  bring  himself  to 
bear,  in  pliant  moments,  with  '  instances  of 
learned  men  who  have  been  taken  into  the 
families  of  the  Great,'  or  disquisitions  on  the 
architecture  of  the  bridges  of  London.  And  if 
'the  Knight'  has  his  arid  tracts,  he  has  also  his 
occasional  flower-knots.  This  is  his  account  of 
Johnson's  conception  of  that  parliamentary  oratory 
under  the  second  George  which,  from  his  Exeter 
Street  garret,  he  reported  but  never  heard:  '  The 
characteristic  of  the  one  assembly  we  know  is 
Dignity:  the  privilege  of  the  other  Freedom  of 
Expression.  To  speak  of  the  first,  when  a  member 
thereof  endowed  with  wisdom,  gravity,  and  ex- 
perience, is  made  to  rise,  the  stile  which  Johnson 
gives  him  is  nervous,  his  matter  weighty,  and 
his  arguments  convincing;  and  when  a  mere 
popular  orator  takes  up  a  debate,  his  eloquence  is 
by  him  represented  in  a  glare  of  false  rhetoric, 
specious  reasoning,  an  affectation  of  wit,  and  a 
disposition  to  trifle  with  subjects  the  most  inter- 
esting.' One  rubs  one's  eyes  as  one  reads,  and 
wonders  whether  the  senatorial  standards  of  '  that 
enlightened  age  in  which  we  live '  really  differ 
materially  from  those  of  the  'Hurgoes'  and 
'Clinabs'  of  Johnson's  Magna  Lilliputia  ! 

A  second   edition  of  the  'Life,'  modified  to 


138  Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight 

some    extent,    followed    at    the    close    of    1787. 
Scarcely  any  of  it  was  sold — says  Malone.    In 
1784,   a   fire   at   the   house   in    Oueen   Square, 
Westminster  (once  Admiral  Vernon's),  to  which 
Hawkins  had  moved  from  Hatton  Garden,  de- 
stroyed his  library,  and  for  a  space  interrupted 
his  labours.  After  a  temporary  sojourn  in  Orchard 
Street,    he    took    up    his    abode    in    the    Broad 
Sanctuary.    Here,  in  May   1789,  he  died  of  an 
apoplectic  seizure,  and  was  buried  in  the  Abbey 
Cloisters,  under   a   stone  which,  by  his  express 
wish,  bore  no  more  than  his  initials,  his  age,  and 
the  date  of  his  death.    In  Chalmers's  biographical 
sketch  of  him,  whence  these  last  particulars  are 
derived,  there  follows  a  very  laudatory  summary 
of  character,  which,  unfortunately,  is  somewhat 
discounted  from  its  having  been  communicated 
by  the  family.    That,  in  addition  to  the  ordinary 
lapidary  epithets,  he  was  '  a  sincere  Christian  (as, 
notwithstanding  the   calumnies   of  his  enemies, 
can  be  abundantly  testified  by  the  evidence  of 
many  persons  now  living),'  there  is  no  need  to 
doubt;  or  further  that  he  was — to  quote  another 
writer — a    person    of    unquestioned    worth    and 
integrity.    But  these  things,  when  accompanied 
by  difficulties  of  manner,  are  much  affected  by 
the  point  of  view.    The  man  who,  in  the  grave 


Sir  John  Hawkins^  Knight  139 

atmosphere  of  the  then  growing  '  Clapham  Sect,' 
would  seem  a  pattern,  might,  to  the  Literary 
Club,  be  simply  insupportable.  His  dignity,  par- 
ticularly if  it  were  emphasized  by  the  drawHng 
speech  indicated  in  the  popular  epitaph,^  might 
easily  be  mistaken  for  pomposity;  his  thrift,  for 
meanness;  his  rectitude,  for  austerity;  his  sanc- 
tity, for  sanctimoniousness.  Yet,  with  all  this, 
he  could  still — as  Johnson  said — be  '  an  honest 
man  at  the  bottom.'  His  worst  fault,  probably, 
lay,  not  so  much  in  his  frigid  Puritanism  and 
hide-bound  temperament,  as  in  his  'plentiful  lack' 
of  that  saving  solvent  in  social  intercourse — a 
sense  of  humour.  His  clever  neighbour  at  Straw- 
berry was  right  in  suspecting  that  he  '  wanted 
the  comic  nerve.'  There  is  no  cure  for  such 
cases ;  and  no  consolation  save  the  wise  caution 
of  Johnson :  '  Never  believe  extraordinary  char- 
acters which  you  hear  of  people.  Depend  upon 
it.  Sir,  they  are  exaggerated.'  That  is  worth 
bearing  in  mind,  even  if  the  Doctor,  who  was  a 
humourist  himself,  should  contradict  it  flatly 
within  twenty-four  hours. 

^  '  Here  lies  Sir  John  Hawkins 
In  his  shoes  and  staukins.'' 


LAUREATE  WHITEHEAD 

SENSITIVE  Mr. James  Boswell,  whose  vanity- 
was  wounded  by  the  inadequate  mention 
made  of  his  name  in  Hawkins's  '  Life  of  Johnson,* 
seems  to  have  been  equally  annoyed  at  a  *  sneer- 
ing observation  '  in  Mason's  'Memoirs'  of  White- 
head. What  the  observation  in  question  was,  he 
does  not  vouchsafe  to  tell  us;'  but  from  his  con- 
text he  must  have  considered  that  Mason  had  in- 
directly disparaged  the  importance,  in  biography, 
of  letters  and  conversations.  These  last  were 
Boswell's  strong  point;  and  as  he  had  said  in  the 
'  Dedication  '  of  the  '  Tour  to  the  Hebrides,'  he 
regarded  them  as  '  the  most  valuable  part '  of  his 
work.  'Mason's  Life  of  Gray' — he  wrote  to 
Temple  in  February  1788 — '  is  excellent,  because 
it  is  interspersed  with  letters  which  show  us  the 
man.  His  Life  of  Whitehead  is  not  a  life  at  all, 
for  there  is  neither  a  letter  nor  a  saying  from  first 
to  last.    I  am  absolutely  certain  that  my  mode  of 

■"   Nor  is  it  easy  to  trace  it  in  Mason  himself,  whose  main 
attack  seems  directed  at  Johnson's  '  Life  of  Gray.' 

140 


Laureate  Whitehead  141 

biography,  which  gives  not  only  a  History  of 
Johnson's  visible  progress  through  the  world,  and 
of  his  publications,  but  a  view  of  his  mind  in  his 
letters  and  conversations,  is  the  most  perfect  that 
can  be  conceived,  and  will  be  more  of  a  Life  than 
any  work  that  has  ever  yet  appeared.'  Three 
years  later,  in  the  opening  pages  of  that  Life,  he 
returns  to  the  same  idea :  '  That  the  conversation 
of  a  celebrated  man,  if  his  talents  have  been  exerted 
in  conversation,  will  best  display  his  character,  is, 
I  trust,  too  well  established  in  the  judgment  of 
mankind,  to  be  at  all  shaken  by  the  sneering  ob- 
servation of  Mr.  Mason,  in  his  'Memoirs  of  Mr. 
William  Whitehead,'  in  which  there  is  literally 
no  Life^  but  a  mere  dry  narrative  of  facts.  I  do 
not  think  it  was  quite  necessary  to  attempt  a  de- 
preciation of  what  is  universally  esteemed,  because 
it  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  immediate  object  of 
the  ingenious  writer's  pen ;  for  in  truth,  from  a 
man  so  still  and  so  tame,  as  to  be  contented  to 
pass  many  years  as  the  domestick  companion  or 
a  superannuated  lord  and  lady  [which  is  Boswell's 
disrespectful  description  of  the  third  Earl  and 
Countess  of  Jersey],  conversation  worth  recording 
could  no  more  be  expected,  than  from  a  Chinese 
mandarin  on  a  chimney-piece,  or  the  fantastick 
figures  on  a  gilt  leather  skreen.' 


142  Laureate  Whitehead 

Boswell's  attitude  is  Boswellian,  and  not  a  little 
undignified,  since  he  has  by  far  the  best  of  the 
argument.  His  conception  of  biography  is  un- 
assailable; and  where  to  epistolary  material  is 
added  the  material  of  conversation,  the  combina- 
tion cannot  fail  to  succeed.  It  is  true  that  the 
reproduction  of  conversation,  when  not  steno- 
graphic, has  its  suspected  side,  as  the  lynx-eyed 
Croker,  with  whom  distrust  was  congenital,  dis- 
covered in  reviewing  the  Z)/^ry  of  Mme.D'Arblay. 
He  doubted  her  ability  *to  give,  verbatim,  all  the 
details  of  long  conversations — sometimes  many 
days  old — which  the  readiest  pen  and  the  quickest 
apprehension  could  not  have  done  even  on  the 
instant';  and  it  may  be  conceded,  notwithstand- 
ing Dr.  Burney's  declaration  that  his  daughter 
'  carried  bird-lime  in  her  brains,'  that  one  some- 
times hesitates  a  little  at  those  lengthy  'theatri- 
calized '  dialogues,  to  which,  as  in  a  play,  the 
names  of  the  speakers  are  prefixed.  But  with 
Boswell,  the  case  is  otherwise.  His  memory  was 
to  the  full  as  retentive  as  Fanny  Burney's.  He 
had  extraordinary  mimetic  power;  and  could  prob- 
ably have  reproduced  Johnson's  deliberate  sonority 
and  strongly-marked  characteristics  as  effectively 
as  Garrick.  He  had  attentively  studied  his  model's 
peculiarities  of  manner;  and  from  the  memoranda 


Laureate  Whitehead  143 

of  a  dinner  party  or  a  night's  intercourse  (for  he 
wrote  no  shorthand),  could  reconstruct  a  con- 
densed record,  which  in  its  main  lines  should  be 
vivid  enough  to  deceive,  by  its  absolute  veri- 
similitude, even  those  who  had  been  present.  That 
he  did  not  profess  to  make  it  literal,  is  clear  from 
his  repeated  attempts — as  he  became  gradually 
*  impregnated  with  the  Johnsonian  aether' — to 
Johnsonize  it  more  exactly.  In  short,  the  man 
and  the  material  had  met.  Mason,  writing  of 
Whitehead  with  meagre  data,  and  with  no  corre- 
spondence, could  naturally  only  depreciate  methods 
of  which  he  was  unable  to  avail  himself.  But 
though  his  subject  was  a  small  one,  it  was  not 
without  interest;  and  if  not  ample  enough  for  an 
extended  biography,  is  still  not  too  minute  for  a 
brief  paper,  particularly  as  the  laureates  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  perhaps  by  reason  of  their 
office,  have  not  always  received  the  modest  recog- 
nition which,  as  literary  figures,  they  sometimes 
merit. 

William  Whitehead,  here  to  be  considered, 
whose  quiet  and  unobtrusive  personality  must  not 
be  confused  with  that  of  his  far  less  worshipful 
namesake,  Paul  Whitehead,  the  crony  of  Wilkes 
and  Monk  of  Medmenham,  was  of  humble  origin, 
even  humbler  origin  than  Richardson  and  Sir  John 


144  Laureate  Whitehead 

Hawkins.   He  was  born  in  17 15,  his  father  being 
a  baker  of  St.  Botolph's  Parish,  Cambridge,  who 
served  Pembroke  Hall.    He  must  have  been  well- 
to-do,  for  he  gave  his  elder  son  a  liberal  educa- 
tion.    By  the  interest  of  Lord   Montfort  (then 
Mr.  Bromley),  he  obtained  for  his  second  son, 
born  fifteen  years  later,  a  nomination  to  Win- 
chester.   Two  years  afterwards  he  died,  in  em- 
barrassed circumstances,  having  frittered  away  his 
means  in  the  fantastic  decoration  of  a  country  house 
in  the  neighbouring  village  of  Grantchester,  which 
long  went  by  the  name  of  '  Whitehead's  Folly.' 
His  son  William  nevertheless  continued  at  Win- 
chester, then  under  Dr.  Burton,  who  seems  to 
have  appreciated  his  pupil's  early  metrical  exer- 
cises so  much  that  he  eventually  came  to  'speak 
of  them    with   rapture.'     From    poetry   the   boy 
turned  to  the  drama,  producing  at  sixteen  an  entire 
comedy.    He  is  also  said  to  have  acted  a  female 
part  in  the  '  Andria '  of  Terence,  and  certainly 
played    Marcia    in    a   school    representation    of 
Addison's 'Cato' — roles  which   may  be  held  to 
imply  something  of  that  gentle  and  effeminate 
character  which  is  attributed  to  him.    In  1733, 
when  Peterborough,  then  seventy-five,  and  within 
two  years  of  his  end,  visited  Winchester  from 
Bevis  Mount  with  Pope,  he  gave  ten  guineas  to 


Laureate  Whitehead  145 

the  boys  for  prizes ;  and  Pope  suggested  that  they 
should  take  '  Mordanto's '  own  exploits  in  the 
Peninsula  as  a  theme  for  a  '  copy  of  verses.'  This 
must  have  been  a  time  when  at  Winchester,  in 
Whitehead's  later  words — 'the  Muses  revell'd 
most,'  for  no  fewer  than  six  of  the  competitors 
took  guinea  prizes,  Whitehead  being  one.  The 
remainder  of  the  money  was  laid  out  in  subscrip- 
tions for  other  boys  to  *  Friar  Pine's '  incised 
'  Horace,'  then  beginning  to  be  issued.  At  William 
of  Wykeham's  College  Whitehead  also  attained 
a  respectable,  though  not  an  extraordinary  facility 
as  a  writer  of  Latin  verse,  and  he  was  even  com- 
missioned by  Pope  to  try  his  skill  at  a  translation 
of  the  first  Epistle  of  the  '  Essay  on  Man.'  But 
although  the  task  was  performed,  there  is  no 
record  that  it  rivalled  Johnson's  rendering  of  the 
'  Messiah.'  Perhaps  it  was  less  easy  to  interpret 
what  the  author  himself  had  failed  to  comprehend. 
Whitehead's  record  at  Winchester  is  that  of 
a  rather  delicate  boy,  fonder  of  the  poets  and 
Mrs.  De  la  Riviere  Manley's  'New  Atalantis,' 
than  of  '  urging  the  flying  ball '  of  Gray,  while 
either  from  delicacy  or  prudence  (his  biographer 
is  not  sure  which),  he  sought  his  companions 
among  the  more  refined  and  better-born  of  his 
schoolmates.     When,   in    September    1735,   the 

L 


146  Laureate  Whitehead 

time  came  for  his  election  to  New  College,  Ox- 
ford, although   he   had   been    school   tutor   to  a 
nobleman's    son     and    a    prepositor,    his    name, 
'through  the  force  of  superior  interest,' was  placed 
so  low  upon  the  list  that  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  succeed.   He  consequently  left  Winchester 
with  no  greater  advantage  than  a  good  education. 
At  this  point,  however,  the  accident  of  his  birth 
stood  him  in  stead.    Some  scholarships  specially 
open  to  the  orphan  sons  of  bakers  had  been  founded 
at  Clare  Hall  by  a  certain  Thomas  Pyke,  who 
had  himself  been  what  Derrick  called  a  'Master 
of  the  Rolls,'  and  one  of  these  scholarships  White- 
head's mother  obtained.    It  was  worth  but  four 
shillings  a  week,  which,  though  it  meant  more 
than  it  does  now,  was  still  far  from  making  him 
easy.    Yet  it  is  to  his  credit  that  his  narrow  cir- 
cumstances seem  never  to  have  affected  his  popu- 
larity.    As  a  versifier  whom  Pope  had  praised, 
he   was   still   memorable;    and   his   address   and 
amiability  speedily  recommended    him  to  many 
prominent  persons.    Charles  Townsend,  Ogden 
of  the  '  Sermons,'  Hurd,  afterwards  the  Bishop, 
Mason's  uncle,  Dr.  Balguy,  are  among  the  names 
of  those  who  not  only  noticed  him  at  this  date, 
but  remained  his  friends  for  life;  and  when,  in 
17363  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  was  married  to 


Laureate  Whitehead  147 

his  clever  wife,  the  Princess  Augusta,  Whitehead 
was  one  of  the  choir  of  academic  singing-birds — 
a  choir  including  Gray  and  West  and  Horace 
Walpole — which  burst  into  loyal  jubilation.  Three 
years  later,  he  graduated  B.A.  and  in  1 742  he 
became  a  Fellow  of  his  College. 

Whitehead  printed  his  contribution  to  the 
'Gratulatio'  in  his  jfirst  volume,  but  he  after- 
wards withdrew  it  from  publication.  Of  the 
verses  which  roused  the  facile  plaudits  of  Dr. 
Burton  nothing  seems  to  have  survived  save  a 
passable  '  Vision  of  Solomon  '  in  ten-line  stanzas; 
and  an  address  to  his  mother,  obviously  inspired, 
as  Mason  points  out,  by  Pope's  birthday  offering 
to  Martha  Blount.  Pope,  indeed,  at  this  date, 
was  very  much  in  Whitehead's  thoughts.  His 
first  published  production  at  Cambridge  was  a 
sequence  of  Popesque  heroics  on  '  The  Danger 
of  Writing  Verse.'  It  contains  mildly  aphoristic 
lines  such  as 

What 's  born  in  leisure  men  of  leisure  read 

(which  by  the  way  is  arguable);  and  couplets  such 
as 

Or,  deeply  vers'd  in  flatt'ry's  wily  ways, 
Flow  in  full  reams  of  undistinguish'd  praise, 

which  happily  reflect  their  admired  model,  while 


148  Laureate  Whitehead 

there  is  a  commendable  energy  in  the  ensuing 
outburst  over  licence: 

Curs'd  be  their  verse,  and  blasted  all  tlieir  bays, 
Whose  sensual  lure  th'  unconscious  ear  betrays; 
Wounds  the  young  breast,  ere  Virtue  spreads  her  shield, 
And  takes,  not  wins,  the  scarce  disputed  field. 
Though  specious  rhet'ric  each  loose  thought  refine, 
Though  music  charm  in  every  labour'd  line. 
The  dangerous  verse,  to  full  perfection  grown, 
Bavius  might  blush,  and  Quarles  disdain  to  own. 

The  last  words  show  that  Whitehead  followed 
his  master  in  disdaining  Quarles,  with  whom  both 
were  probably  but  imperfectly  acquainted.  But 
he  scarcely  attained  the  admirable  perspicuity  of 
Pope;  and  if,  as  alleged.  Pope  praised  'The 
Danger  of  Writing  Verse,'  it  must  have  been 
that  he  recognized  in  its  author  a  creditable  pupil 
rather  than  a  dangerous  rival.  In  Whitehead's 
next  effort,  a  versification  of  the  Atys  and 
Adrastus  episode  in  Herodotus  (Atys,  it  should 
be  mentioned,  was  accidentally  killed  by  Adrastus 
in  hunting  the  Mysian  boar),  Pope  still  dominates 
the  writer;  and  in  a  third  performance,  'Ann 
Boleyn  to  Henry  VKIth,'  based  upon  her  famous 
last  letter  from  the  Tower,  as  printed  by  Addison 
in  the  '  Spectator,'  '  Eloisa  to  Abelard  '  is  plainly 
in  his  mind.  But  it  was  a  bold  attempt  to  dilute 


Laureate  Whitehead  149 

in  verse  what  Shakespeare  [pace  Mr.  Addison) 
could  scarcely  have  bettered  for  truth  and  un- 
feigned poignancy;  and  it  is  ill  reading  the 
rhymed  paraphrase  after  the  prose  original. 
Whitehead  is  far  more  at  home  in  another  poem 
'On  Ridicule,'  published  in  the  same  year,  which 
has  several  telling  passages  on  the  nice  conduct 
of  that  risible  faculty  which,  we  are  assured  by 
the  author  of  'Horae  Subsecivae,'  constitutes,  with 
the  possession  of  a  chin  and  the  convolution  of 
the  brain  known  as  the  hippocampus  minor^  our 
chief  distinction  from  the  brute  creation.  Here 
is  an  easily  recognizable  class  of  laughers : 

Fond  of  one  art,  most  men  the  rest  forgo  j 
And  all 's  ridiculous,  but  what  they  know. 
Freely  they  censure  lands  they  ne'er  explore, 
With  tales  they  learn'd  from  coasters  on  the  shore. 
As  Afric's  petty  kings,  perhaps,  who  hear 
Of  distant  states  from  some  weak  traveller. 
Imperfect  hints  with  eager  ears  devour, 
And  sneer  at  Europe's  fate,  and  Britain's  power. 

And  here  is  a  wise  warning,  even  now, — 

'Tis  dangerous,  too,  in  these  licentious  times, 
Howe'er  severe  the  smile,  to  sport  with  crimes  .  .  . 
When  Tully's  tongue  the  Roman  Clodius  draws. 
How  laughing  satire  weakens  MiLO's  cause! 
Each  pictur'd  vice  so  impudently  bad, 
The  crimes  turn  frolics,  and  the  villain  mad; 


150  Laureate  Whitehead 

Rapes,  murders,  incest,  treasons,  mirth  create. 
And  Rome  scarce  hates  the  author  of  her  fate. 

It  is  consolatory,  too,  to  find  that  Whitehead 
does  not  share  the  views  of  Sir  John  Hawkins  as 
to  the  'feebleness  and  inanity'  of  Addison's  style. 

See,  with  what  grace  instructive  satire  flows 
PoHtely  keen,  in  Clio's  ^  numbered  prose! 
That  great  example  sliould  our  zeal  excite, 
And  censors  learn  from  Addison  to  write. 

In  the  first  version  of  this  poem.  Whitehead 
included  Lucian  and  Cervantes  as  legitimate 
models  in  the  art  of  ridicule,  but  he  withdrew 
them  afterwards,  as  well  as  some  other  masters, 
in  order  that  Addison  might  reign  alone. 

A  poem  to  Lord  Ashburnham  on  '  Nobility ' 
completes  Whitehead's  academic  output;  and  his 
next  function  was  that  of  tutor  to  a  son  of  the 
third  Earl  of  Jersey.  As  his  fellowship  was  not 
prejudiced  by  such  an  employment,  he  removed 
in  1745  to  his  patron's  house  in  Berkeley  Square. 
Besides  his  pupil.  Viscount  Villiers,  he  had  the 
education  of  a  friend  of  the  family  named 
Stephens.  But  his  duties  left  him  ample  leisure 
to  cultivate  an  already-formed  taste  for  the  stage, 

*  C.  L.  I.  O. — were  initials  which  Addison  appended  to 
his  '  Spectators.' 


Laureate  Whitehead  151 

and  he  promptly  set  about  a  ballad-farce  called 
the  'Edinburgh  Ball,'  based  on  the  '45,  and  ridi- 
culing the  Pretender.  This,  however,  despite  its 
manifest  'actuality,'  was  neither  printed  nor  per- 
formed. Two  years  afterwards  he  was  evidently 
preluding  to  more  serious  efforts.  He  must  have 
become  known  to  Dr.  Benjamin  Hoadly,  on 
whose  '  Suspicious  Husband,'  which  Garrick  had 
popularized  by  his  rendering  of 'Ranger,'  he  wrote 
some  commendatory  verses;  and  he  also  ad- 
dressed an  octosyllabic  epistle  to  'Roscius'  him- 
self, who  had  just  been  appointed  joint  patentee 
with  Lacy  of  Drury  Lane.  Both  Thalia  and 
Melpomene  are  made  to  combine  in  praising 
Garrick;  and  both  seem  needlessly  preoccupied  by 
their  recollections  of  Pope  on  Swift.'  'O  thou' 
— says  Melpomene — 

O  thou,  whom  Nature  taught  the  art 
To  pierce,  to  cleave,  to  tear  the  heart, 
Whatever  name  delight  thy  ear, 
Othello,  Richard,  Hamlet, Lear; — 

to  which  Thalia  replies — 

O  thou,  where'er  thou  fix  thy  praise, 

Brute,  Drugger,  Fribble,  Ranger,  Bays! 


'  O  thou  !  whatever  Title  please  thine  ear. 
Dean,  Drapier,  Bickerstaff,  or  Gulliver! 

('  Dunciad,'  i,  20.) 


152  Laureate  Whitehead 

O  join  with  her  '  in  my  behalf, 

And  teach  an  audience  when  to  laugh. 

So  shall  buffoons  with  shame  repair 

To  draw  in  fools  at  Smithfield  fair, 

And  real  humour  charm  the  age, 

Though  Falstaff  should  forsake  the  stage. — 

the  last  line  being  a  palpable  reference  to  the 
approaching  retirement  of  Quin  to  Bath,  where 
he  was  to  enter  on  his  closing  vocation  of  wit  and 
bon-vivant.  But  Whitehead  is  nothing  if  not 
didactic,  and  he  winds  up  with  an  appeal  to  the 
all-powerful  manager  to  purify  the  stage. 

A  nation's  taste  depends  on  you: 
— Perhaps  a  nation's  virtue  too, — 

he  is  reminded;  and  he  is  diplomatically  en- 
joined to 

Consult  your  own  good  sense  in  all, 

Be  deaf  to  fashion's  fickle  call, 

Nor  e'er  descend  from  reason's  laws 

To  court,  what  you  command,  applause. 

If,  with  this  admonition,  we  cannot  positively 
connect  the  subsequent  production  at  Drury 
Lane  of  Whitehead's  first  play,  '  The  Roman 
Father,'  we  must  at  least  admit  that  '  it  followed 
hard  upon.'  '  The  Roman  Father '  was  a  careful 
academic  adaptation  of  the  story  of  the  Horatii 

^   Mrs.  Pritchard. 


Laureate  Whitehead  153 

and  Curiatii  which  Corneille  had  taken  from 
Livy,  with  omissions  and  extensions  to  suit  the 
English  cast,  greater  prominence  being  given  to 
the  father  of  the  hero,  a  part  which  was  sustained 
by  Garrick,  Horatia,  his  daughter,  being  played 
by  Mrs.  Pritchard,  who  had  also  been  thought- 
fully eulogized  in  the  Garrick  epistle.  The  piece 
was  produced  in  February  1750,  and  had  a  succes, 
d^est'ime.  But  Whitehead  is  his  own  severest  critic 
in  his  'Prologue,'  spoken  by  'silver-tongued' 
Barry,  the  handsome  interpreter  of  young 
Horatius: — 

Our  bard  has  play'd  a  most  adventurous  part, 
And  turn'd  upon  himself  the  critic's  art: 
Stripp'd  each  luxuriant  plume  from  Fancy's  wings, 
And  torn  up  similes  like  vulgar  things  : 
Nay  even  each  moral,  sentimental,  stroke. 
Where  not  the  character,  but  poet  spoke, 
He  lopp'd,  as  foreign  to  his  chaste  design, 
Nor  spar'd  an  useless,  tho'  a  golden  line. 

It  is  hazardous  for  an  author  to  suggest  to  his 
public  an  obvious  objection;  and  in  Whitehead's 
case,  his  classic  restraint  and  economy  of  rhe- 
torical ornament  were  not  redeemed  by  any 
exceptional  vigour  of  expression.  In  a  second 
tragedy,  'Creusa,  Queen  of  Athens,'  adapted 
from   the  '  Ion '  of  Euripides,  and  brought  out 


154  Laureate  Whitehead 

at  Drury  Lane  four  years  later,  he  achieved  a 
greater  literary,  if  a  less  popular  triumph.  Garrick 
again  took  a  leading  character,  Mrs.  Pritchard 
was  the  Queen,  and  Miss  Macklin  the  boy 
Ilyssus,  who  had  been  substituted  for  the  Ion  of 
the  model.  Concerning  the  acting  merits  of 
'  Creusa,'  Garrick's  two  biographers,  Murphy 
and  Davies,  are  at  issue.  It  may  be  mentioned, 
however,  that  Walpole— not  always  so  con- 
temptible a  judge  as  Macaulay  supposes — had  no 
doubts.  '  It  is  the  only  new  tragedy  ' — Horace 
tells  Chute — 'that  I  ever  saw  and  really  liked. 
The  plot  is  most  interesting,  and  though  so 
complicated,  quite  clear  and  natural.  The  cir- 
cumstance of  so  much  distress  being  brought  on 
by  characters,  every  one  good,  yet  acting  con- 
sistently with  their  principles  towards  the  mis- 
fortunes of  the  drama,  is  quite  new  and  pleasing.' 
To-day,  perhaps,  what  is  most  vital  about  the 
play  is  the  second  or  occasional  epilogue  spoken 
by  Mrs.  Pritchard,  and  written  by  the  author  at 
the  general  election  which  followed  the  death,  in 
March  1754,  of  Henry  Pelham.  It  sketches  a 
feminine  House  of  Commons,  where,  placed  for 
once  '  in  good  St.  Stephen  s  pews,'  women  should 
straightway  proceed   to  enforce  early  marriages, 

^  Toynbee's  *  Walpole's  Letters,'  iii  (1903),  228-9. 


Laureate  Whitehead  155 

prohibit  gaming,  double-tax  wine,  and  take  the 
duty  off  all  imports  of  *  blonds  and  laces,  French 
hoops,  French  silks,  French  cambricks,  and — 
French  faces.'  'Creusa '  and  'The  Roman  Father ' 
were  Whitehead's  only  acted  offerings  to  Mel- 
pomene; and  with  the  record  that  they  brought 
him  enough  to  pay  his  father's  still  outstanding 
debts,  we  may  dismiss  his  contributions  to  '  the 
buskin'd  stage.'  But,  as  we  shall  find  later,  he 
made  a  further  essay  in  comedy. 

Up  to  the  period  now  reached,  and  despite  the 
distractions  of  stagecraft,  his  pen  had  not  been 
idle  in  other  ways,  and  had  exercised  itself  in 
various  directions.  Of  verses  that  can  be  dated, 
the  chief  is  an  highly  ornate  '  Ode  to  the  Nymph 
of  Bristol  Spring'  (St.  Vincent's  Well),  an  at- 
tempt, in  Thomsonian  blank  verse,  to  emulate 
the  hymns  of  Homer  and  Callimachus.  Another 
piece,  on  '  Friendship,'  attracted  the  commenda- 
tion of  Gray,  though  more  for  its  execution  than 
its  theme,  in  which  the  critic  discovered  a  latent 
note  of  satire.  A  third  piece,  '  The  Sweepers,' 
recalls  the  'Splendid  Shilling'  of  Philips,  but  is 
more  a  memory  of  Gay's  '  Trivia '  than  a  parody 
of  Milton.  These  things,  however,  with  '  La 
Fontaine '  tales,  epistles  in  octosyllabics,  and  the 
rest,  serve  to   prove  that   the  writer  was   more 


156  Laureate  Whitehead 

capable  than  some  of  his  contemporaries,  of  vary- 
ing, not  only  his  measures,  but  his  matter.  He 
also  contributed  three  papers  to  Moore's  just 
established  'World,'  which  exhibit  a  pleasing 
facility  in  that  'other  harmony  of  prose.'  One 
is  levelled  at  the  stupidity  and  obscenity  of  the 
contemporary  novel — charges  from  which  he  is 
careful  to  exempt  both  Richardson  and  Fielding. 
Another  is  a  sensible  protest  against  the  effeminacy 
of  male  beauty ;  a  third  rallies  agreeably  the  then 
fashionable  '  Chinese  manner '  in  building  and 
furniture,  which  was  apparently  ^  already  sup- 
planting pseudo-Gothic.  In  1754  Whitehead 
collected  his  verses  into  a  volume;  and  in  June 
of  the  same  year  left  England  in  the  capacity  of 
*  Governor '  or  travelling  tutor  to  his  pupil.  Lord 
Villiers,  and  Lord  Harcourt's  son,  Lord  Nuneham. 
Making  their  way  through  Flanders,  the  trio 
paused  for  a  while  at  Rheims  (like  Gray  and 
Walpole  before  them)  in  order  to  study  French ; 
and  next  moving  to  Leipzig,  devoted  seven  months 
to  '  Droit  Publique '  under  Professor  Mascou, 
then  very  old,    but  still  capable  of  reading  his 

^  We  say  '  apparently,'  because  at  this  date,  1753,  the 
apostle  of  Gothic,  Horace  Walpole,  was  still  continuing, 
by  slow  stages,  to  convert  Mrs.  Chenevix's  little  country- 
box  at  Twickenham  into  a  '  Gothic  castle." 


Laureate  Whitehead  157 

lectures.  From  Leipzig  they  went  on  to  Dresden, 
reaching  Hanover  in  1755,  at  the  very  time  when 
George  II  was  paying  his  last  visit  to  his  beloved 
Electorate  before  the  Seven  Years'  War.  At 
Hanover  they  happened  upon  Whitehead's  future 
biographer,  Mason,  who  was  domestic  chaplain 
to  the  Earl  of  Holdernesse,  Secretary  of  State  for 
the  Northern  Department.  To  this  connection 
belongs  a  poetical  address  by  Whitehead  to  Mason, 
in  which  the  former,  rather  unexpectedly,  con- 
sidering his  antecedents,  enjoins  his  friend  not  to 
*  loiter  life  away,'  but  to  devote  himself  to  an 
active  career.  From  Hanover  the  party  passed  to 
Vienna,  and  finally  entered  Italy.  The  declaration 
of  war  prevented  their  traversing  France  on  their 
homeward  journey;  but  after  crossing  the  Alps, 
and  visiting  Switzerland,  Germany,  and  Holland, 
they  finally  landed  at  Harwich  in  September  1756.^ 
Their  experiences  exhibit  the  '  Grand  Tour ' 
at  its  best — not  as  the  '  premature,  and  indigested 
TraveV  against  which  the  excellent  Dr.  Brown 
inveighs    in    his    'inestimable    Esti7nate^ ;     but 

'  In  Mr.  Ralph  Straus's  opportune  and  interesting  study 
of  'Robert  Dodsley,'  Lane,  1909,  are  printed  two  letters 
from  Whitehead  to  the  bookseller.  From  one  of  these, 
sent  from  Leipzig  in  April  1755,  it  appears  that  Garrick 
had  revived  '  Creusa.' 


158  Laureate  Whitehead 

rather — as  conceived  by  Sidney  and  John  Evelyn 
— in  the  light  of  an  apprenticeship  to  the  business 
of  life.  Whitehead  vv^as  an  ideal '  Governor ' ;  and 
his  companions  w^ere  docile  and  genuinely  attached 
to  him.  One  result  of  their  w^anderings  vv^as, 
perhaps  of  necessity,  the  production  on  the  tutor's 
part  of  poetical  impressions  de  voyage.  There  is  an 
opening  'Ode  to  the  Tiber'  on  entering  the 
Campagna;  but  the  majority  of  the  pieces  are 
elegies  after  the  model  of  Gray,  a  circumstance 
which  has  perhaps  led  to  their  being  moreneglected 
than  they  deserve  to  be. 

One  of  these  last,  written  on  the  Mausoleum 
of  Augustus  (then  a  garden  belonging  to  the 
Marchese  di  Corre),  in  which  young  Lord  Villiers 
is  invited  to  emulate  Marcellus,  has  a  stanza  that 
faintly  suggests  a  quatrain  of  the  Rubaiyat : 

In  every  shrub,  in  every  flow'ret's  bloom, 

That  paints  with  different  hues  yon  smiling  plain, 

Some  Hero's  ashes  issue  from  the  tomb, 
And  live  a  vegetative  life  again. 

Is  not  this  Omar's 

I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose  as  where  some  buried  Caesar  bled; 
That  every  Hyacinth  the  Garden  wears 
Dropt  in  her  Lap  from  some  once  lovely  Head  ? 

In  another  elegy,  also  written  at  Rome,  White- 


Laureate  Whitehead  159 

head  addresses  his  other  pupil,  Lord  Nunehamj 
and  in  his  final  lines  indicates  the  true  function  of 
a  patrician  man  of  taste: — 

Whate'er  of  Greece  in  sculptur'd  brass  survives, 
Whate'er  of  Rome  in  mould'ring  arcs  remains, 

Whate'er  of  Genius  on  the  canvass  lives. 

Or  flows  in  polish'd  verse,  or  airy  strains, 

Be  these  thy  leisure;  to  the  chosen  few. 

Who  dare  excel,  thy  fost'ring  aid  afford ; 

Their  arts,  their  magic  powers,  with  honours  due 
Exalt;   but  be  thyself  what  they  record. 

It  was  quite  in  accordance  with  these  useful 
precepts,  that  while  he  was  at  Rome,  Whitehead 
was  appointed,  by  the  good  offices  of  his  noble 
patrons,  to  '  two  genteel  patent  places,  usually 
united,'  namely,  those  of  Secretary  and  Register 
of  the  Order  of  the  Bath.  He  was  thus  removed 
sufficiently  beyond  the  necessity  of  pleasing  in 
order  to  live ;  and  shortly  afterwards,  when  Colley 
Gibber  died,  he  became  also  Poet  Laureate. 

The  vacancy  had  first  been  offered,  through 
Lord  John  Cavendish,  the  Lord  Chamberlain's 
brother,  to  Gray,  by  whom  it  was  declined.  '  I 
hope' — his  biographer  Mason  makes  him  say — 
'I  hope  you  couched  my  refusal  to  Lord  John 
Cavendish  in  as  respectful  terms  as  possible,  and 
with  all  due  acknowledgments  to  the  Duke  [of 


i6o  Laureate  Whitehead 

Devonshire].'  This  is  an  excellent  example  of  the 
latitude  of  eighteenth-century  editing ;  for  Gray 
did  not  utter  a  single  word  that  has  been  quoted. 
On  the  contrary,  he  wrote  a  very  Gray-like  and 
rather  petulant  letter  to  Mason.  He  'knew  very 
well,'  he  said,  'the  bland  emollient  saponaceous 
qualities  both  of  sack  and  silver,'  but  while  he  did 
not  pretend  to  blame  any  one  else  that  had  '  not 
the  same  sensations,'  he  would  '  rather  be  sergeant 
trumpeter  or  pin-maker  to  the  palace.'  .  .  .'The 
office  itself,'  he  added,  '  has  always  humbled  the 
professor  hitherto,  ...  if  he  were  a  poor  writer 
by  making  him  more  conspicuous,  and  if  he  were 
a  good  one  by  setting  him  at  war  with  the  little 
fry  of  his  own  profession,  for  there  are  poets  little 
enough  to  envy  even  a  poet  laureate.'  Looking 
to  Gibber,  and  the  Eusdens  and  Tates  who  had 
preceded  him,  Gray's  attitude  is  intelligible.  But 
Whitehead  had  '  not  the  same  sensations,'  nor 
had  some  of  his  friends.  Richard  Owen  Cam- 
bridge, indeed,  in  a  congratulatory  poem,  declared 
that  '  every  envious  voice  was  hushed  ' — 

Tho'  by  prescriptive  right  prepar'd 
To  libel  the  selected  bard — 

an  ideal  condition  of  things  which  is  surely  too 
good  to  be  true.  Be  this  as  it  may,  Whitehead 
set  himself  'to  play  the  game.'    He  had  not,  like 


Laureate  Whitehead  i6i 

Gray,  been  proffered  exemption  from  the  duties, 
and  he  manfully  disregarded  Mason's  advice  to 
employ  an  occasional  'ghost.'  From  November 
1758  to  the  end  of  his  life  he  continued  to  produce 
his  *  quit-rent  odes '  and  '  pepper-corns  of  praise ' 
with  exemplary  industry ;  and  it  must  be  honestly 
admitted,  despite  the  verdict  of  Johnson  (who 
thought  the  difference  between  bad  and  good  in 
these  matters  too  trifling  for  discrimination),  with 
far  greater  ability  than  had  characterized  the  per- 
functory efforts  of  his  forerunners.  As  Gray  had 
predicted,  and  as  Cambridge  had  really  expected, 
he  did  not  escape  the  hostility  of  the  '  little  fry,' 
who,  however  amiable  they  may  have  seemed  at 
the  outset,  were  unwearied  in  denouncing  his 
performances  in  office.  To  such  assaults  he  was 
not  careful  to  reply.  But  in  some  verses  entitled 
*  A  Pathetic  Apology  for  all  Laureates,  past, 
present,  and  to  come,'  composed  not  long  before 
his  death,  he  shows  that  he  fully  appreciated  the 
tribulations  of  those  whose 

- — Muse,  obVig'd  by  sack  and  pension, 
Without  a  subject,  or  invention — 
Must  certain  words  in  order  set, 
As  innocent  as  a  Gazette j 
Must  some  half-meaning  half  disguise, 
And  utter  neither  truth  nor  lies. — 
M 


1 62  Laureate  Whitehead 

a  definition  which,  if  it  can  scarcely  be  said  to 
magnify  his  office,  has,  at  all  events,  the  authority 
of  prolonged  experience.^ 

When  he  returned  to  England  from  the  Con- 
tinent, Whitehead  had  reached  that  middle-age 
beyond  which,  in  ordinary  circumstances,  a  new 
career  is  not  embarked  upon.  For  many  years  to 
come  he  lived  with  Lord  Jersey,  no  longer  as  a 
tutor,  but  as  a  companion  to  his  pupil's  father  and 
mother,  now  advanced  in  years.  The  difficulties 
which  in  other  cases  have  arisen  from  such  an 
arrangement  were  materially  modified  by  White- 
head's own  tact  and  amiability,  and  by  the  perfect 
taste  and  delicacy  with  which  he  was  treated  by 
the  '  superannuated  lord  and  lady '  at  whom 
Boswell  thought  it  necessary  to  jeer.  Lord  Har- 
court  also  gave  him  a  standing  invitation  to 
Nuneham.  It  must  have  been  either  at  Nuneham 
or  Middleton  Park  that  he  prepared  his  solitary 
comedy,  the  *  School  for  Lovers,'  based  upon 
Fontenelle's  unacted  '  Le  Testament.'     Perhaps 

^  Gray  was  more  generous  to  Whitehead  than  some  of 
his  contemporaries.  '  Do  you  know  I  like  both  White- 
head's Odes' — he  writes  to  Mason  in  January  1759 — 'in 
great  measure,  but  nobody  else  does.'  Elsewhere  he  says, 
'  they  are  far  better  than  anything  he  ever  wrote.'  He  also 
liked  the  verses  to  Garrick. 


Laureate  Whitehead  163 

because  of  Whitehead's  repudiation  of  sentiment- 
ality in  the  Prologue  to  the  '  Roman  Father,' 
Mason  shrank  from  classing  the  piece  with  the 
comed'ie  larmoyante  already  established  in  France,^ 
and  soon  to  be  transferred  to  this  country.  But 
Whitehead's  admission  in  his  own  never-spoken 
*  Prologue '  is  here  conclusive.  His  work,  he  says, 
professes  to 'play  poHtely  with  your  hopes  and 
fears,  And  sometimes  smiles  provoke,  and  some- 
times tears  ' — a  distinction  which  plainly  indicates 
a  leaning  to  the  new  comedie  mixte^  rather  than 
that  elder  manner  which  relied  exclusively  upon 
the  ridicule  of  vice  and  folly.  As  in  the  '  Roman 
Father,'  he  also  aimed  at  'pure  simplicity.'  His 
plot,  turning  on  the  time-honoured  embarrass- 
ments of  ward  and  guardian,  is  almost  bald;  his 
pathos  is  not  infectious;  his  humour  (in  which 
he  was  by  no  means  deficient)  is  'polite'  to  the 
vanishing  point.  Consequently  his  Dorilants  and 
Caelias,  his  Modelys  and  Aramintas  are  not  more 
exhilarating  than  the  superfine  puppets  later  set 

'  In  Dialogue  XIV  of  the  '  Dialogues  of  the  Dead '  (1760), 
Lyttelton  makes  Pope  say:  'It  is  a  wonderful  thing,  that 
in  France  the  '  Comick  Muse  '  should  be  '  the  gravest  lady 
in  the  nation  .  .  .  Now  she  weeps  over  vice  instead  of 
showing  it  to  mankind,  as  I  think  she  generally  ought  to 
do,  in  ridiculous  lights'  ('Works,'  1776,  ii,  199). 


164  Laureate  Whitehead 

in  motion  by  Kelly  and  Cumberland.  But  Garrick, 
who  when  he  chose  could  float  or  finesse  any- 
thing, played  once  more  the  leading  part,  being 
excellently  seconded  by  Palmer  and  O'Brien,  while 
for  women  there  were  Mrs.  Gibber  (acting  at  fifty 
a  girl  of  fifteen!),  Mrs.  Clive,  and  Mrs,  Yates,  any 
one  of  whom,  by  herself,  could  have  secured 
attention  to  any  piece  not  absolutely  contemptible. 
And  *  contemptible'  the  'School  for  Lovers'  could 
not  be  called.  It  had  literary  style,  good  manners, 
and  good  sense.  But  it  was  undeniably  tame.  It 
wanted  the  historical  piano  which  Mr.  Harry 
Foker's  prototype  maliciously  recommended  to 
Thackeray.  And  it  is  not  difficult  to  understand 
why,  when  Garrick  a  few  years  later  proposed 
Whitehead  as  final  arbiter  in  the  matter  of  the 
production  of  '  The  Good-Natur'd  Man,'  Gold- 
smith indignantly  refused  to  submit  his  work  to 
a  critic  whose  views  of  comedy  differed  so  funda- 
mentally from  his  own.' 

Concurrently  with  the  appearance  in  book  form 

^  Garrick  mentions  the  '  School  for  Lovers '  in  the 
'Farmer's  Return  from  Town,'  1762,  a  bright  little  inter- 
lude he  wrote  for  Mrs.  Pritchard's  benefit.  '  The  "  Crat- 
ticks"  grumbled,'  says  the  farmer} — '  I'll  tell  you  for  whoy, 
They  wanted  to  laugh — and  were  ready  to  croy.'  Descant- 
ing delightfully,  in  '  A  Drawing  of  Garrick,'  on  the  tron- 


J 


Laureate  Whitehead  165 

of  the  *  School  for  Lovers' — that  is  to  say,  in 
March  1762 — Whitehead  published  a  '  Charge  to 
the  Poets,'  which  is,  in  some  sort,  a  sequel  to  his 
earlier  '  Danger  of  Writing  Verse.'  Considering 
the  traditional  irritability  of  the  class  addressed, 
the  title  was  not  tactful,  especially  from  a  laureate; 
nor  was  it  extenuated  by  the  motto,  *  ^asi  ex 
cathedra  loquitur^  But  the  poem  is  far  better  than 
its  predecessor,  more  skilfully  versified,  more  con- 
nected in  thought,  and  full  of  excellent  things, 
many  of  which  are  as  true  to-day  as  they  were 
under  George  III. 

*  To  you,'  the  poet  cries : 

To  you,  ye  guardians  of  the  sacred  fount, 
Deans  and  Archdeacons  of  the  double  mount, 
That  thro'  our  realms  intestine  broils  may  cease. 
My  first,  and  last  advice  is,  *  Keep  the  peace ! ' 
What  is't  to  you,  that  half  the  Town  admire 
False  sense,  false  strength,  false  softness,  or  false  fire? 
Through  Heav'n's  void  concave  let  the  meteors  blaze, 
He  hurts  his  own,  who  wounds  another's  bays. 
What  is't  to  you,  that  numbers  place  your  name 
First,  fifth,  or  twentieth,  in  the  lists  of  fame? 


tispiece  which  Hogarth  designed  for  his  friend's  play,  Mr. 
Sidney  Colvin  takes  an  opportunity  of  making  some  valu- 
able references  to  Whitehead  and  his  works  ('Fasciculus 
Johanni  Willis  Clark  dicatus,'  1909,  pp.  412-4.18). 


1 66  Laureate  Whitehead 

Old  Time  will  settle  all  your  claims  at  once. 
Record  the  genius,  and  forget  the  dunce. 

Again,  of  critics: 

If  fools  traduce  you,  and  your  works  decry, 
As  many  fools  will  rate  your  worth  too  high; 
Then  balance  the  account,  and  fairly  take 
The  cool  report  which  men  of  judgment  make. 
In  writing,  as  in  life,  he  foils  the  foe. 
Who,  conscious  of  his  strength,  forgives  the  blow. 
They  court  the  insult  who  but  seem  afraid: 
And  then,  by  answering,  you  promote  the  trade. 
And  give  them,  what  their  own  weak  claims  deny, 
A  chance  for  future  laughter,  or  a  sigh. 

And  again: 

A  life  of  writing,  unless  wondrous  short, 
No  wit  can  brace,  no  genius  can  support. 
Some  soberer  province  for  your  business  choose, 
Be  that  your  helmet,  and  your  plume  the  Muse— 

which  are  prettier  metaphors  than  Sir  Walter's 
stafi-  and  crutch,  and  briefer  than  Coleridge's 
amplification.^  Other  passages  show  a  catholic 
toleration  for  varieties  of  taste.  The  conclusion  of 

^  '  Let  literature  be  an  honourable  augmentation  to  your 
arms,  but  not  constitute  the  coat,  or  fill  the  escutcheon!' 
('  Biographia  Literaria,'  ch.  xi).  Coleridge  must  have 
read  the  '  Charge,'  for  in  the  same  chapter  he  speaks  of  it 
as  perhaps  the  best  of  Whitehead's  works. 


Laureate  Whitehead  167 

the  poet  is  '  That  Verse  and  Virtue  are  their  own 
reward ' — a  sentiment  which,  with  the  change  of 
'  literature '  for  '  verse,'  has  been  attributed  to  the 
arch-pessimist  Chesterfield. 

The  'Charge  to  the  Poets'  brought  upon 
Whitehead  the  reckless  and  indiscriminate  cudgel 
of  Churchill.  In  his  desultory  *  Ghost,'  the  second 
part  of  which  appeared  simultaneously  with  the 
*  Charge,'  he  had  glanced  incidentally  at  '  placid 
Whitehead.'  In  the  third  book,  published  some 
nine  months  later,  he  attacked  him  in  force.  But 
the  blustering  octosyllabics  of  the  '  Ghost '  do  not 
show  the  'Bruiser' at  his  best.  He  hits,  fairly 
enough,  some  of  Whitehead's  obvious  character- 
istics— his  deference  to  tradition,  his  dislike  of 
emphasis,  his  lack  of  vigour,  and  so  forth — all  of 
which,  of  course,  have  harsher  names  in  the 
satirist's  haphazard  invective.  It  is  easy,  for  in- 
stance, to  transform  judicious  reticence  into  a  kind 
of  '  letting-I-dare-not-wait-upon-I- would  '  sort  of 
timidity  by  representing  the  poet  as  one  who 

— Champion  swore  in  Virtue's  cause, 
'Gainst  Vice  his  tiny  bodkin  draws, 
But  to  no  part  of  Prudence  stranger, 
First  blunts  the  point  for  fear  of  danger. 

Much,  however,  that  Churchill  says,  is  mere 
'rhyme  and  rattle';  and  it  is  quite  possible  that 


1 68  Laureate  Whitehead 

but  for  the  mention  of 'subject  Bards '  in  the 
*  Charge,'  and  the  appearance  of  Whitehead  as  a 
writer  of  serious  comedy,  he  would  have  neglected 
him  altogether. 

Acting  upon  his  own  precept,  Whitehead  did 
not '  promote  the  trade '  by  replying  to  Churchill's 
diatribe,^  although  after  his  death  some  fragment- 
ary couplets  on  the  subject  were  found  among 
his  papers  which  show  that  he  recognized  both 
the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  his  short-lived 
assailant.  He  himself  continued  to  write,  pro- 
ducing in  1770  'A  Trip  to  Scotland,'  an  an- 
onymous farce,  which  had  not  only  considerable 
humour,  but  considerable  success  at  Drury  Lane. 
In  1774  he  took  a  conventional  farewell  to  the 
Muse  with  a  new  edition  of  his  works.  But  the 
most  popular  of  his  pieces  with  the  anthologist,  a 
'  tale  for  married  people '  entitled  '  Variety,'  fol- 
lowed two  years  later.  This,  in  the  manner  of 
Prior,  or  Gay,  is  a  neatly  finished  and  cleverly 
constructed  little  conte^  of  which  the  moral  is  ex- 
cellent and  the  style  irreproachable.  To  this, 
again,  succeeded  *  The  Goat's  Beard,'  an  elabora- 

'  In  spite  of  statements  to  the  contrary,  it  was  never 
repeated.  Church!]!  mentions  Whiteliead's  name  once  or 
twice,  and  gives  him  and  his  comedy  a  couplet  in  '  The 
Journey.'    But  that  is  all. 


Laureate  Whitehead  169 

tion  of  a  very  compact  fable  of  Phaedrus  turning 
on  the  rivalry  of  the  sexes.  It  is  more  learned 
and  more  laboured,  but  scarcely  so  happy.  Both 
these  pieces  appeared  without  his  name.  His  last 
publication  was  an  address  to  the  Duchess  of 
Queensberry,  Prior's  ever-green  *  Kitty,'  then 
more  than  seventy.  At  her  Grace's  desire,  in  a 
metre  that  dances  like  Prior's  own,  it  gaily  satirizes 
the  enormities  of  feminine  costume.  Failing 
quotation  from  the  longer  efforts  mentioned 
above,  here  is  its  description  of  the  contemporary 
coiffure : 

Don't  let  your  curls  fall  with  that  natural  bend, 
But  stretch  them  up  tight  till  each  hair  stands  on  end. 
One,  two,  nay  three  cushions,  like  Cybele's  towers; 
Then  a  few  ells  of  gauze,  and  some  baskets  of  flow'rs. 
These  bottles  of  nectar  will  serve  for  perfumes. 
Go  pluck  the  fledg'd  Cupids,  and  bring  me  their  plumes. 
If  that's  not  enough,  you  may  strip  all  the  fowls. 
My  doves,  Juno's  peacocks,  and  Pallas's  owls; 
And  stay,  from  Jove's  eagle,  if  napping  you  take  him, 
You  may  snatch  a  few  quills — but  be  sure  you  don't  wake 
him. 

This  is  no  caricature  of  the  *  heads'  of  1775. 
Its  author  went  on  with  his  official  Odes  for  ten 
years  longer,  and,  in  fact,  was  engaged  on  one  of 
them  in  his  last  hours.    For  some  time  he  had,  by 


170  Laureate  Whitehead 

his  own  desire,  withdrawn  from  Lord  Jersey's 
household,  with  which,  however,  he  still  preserved 
the  friendliest  relations ;  and  he  was  living  in 
lodgings  in  Charles  Street,  Grosvenor  Square, 
when  he  died  suddenly  on  14th  April  1785,  in 
his  seventieth  year.  He  was  buried  in  South 
Audley  Street  Chapel,  where  lie  also  the  remains 
of  Wilkes  and  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu. 
There  is  a  portrait  of  him  by  W.  Doughty  in  the 
Dyce  Collection  at  South  Kensington. 

In  a  contemptuous  list  of  the  chief  writers  in 
the  '  World,'  drawn  up  as  a  corrective  to  Horace 
Walpole's  praise  of  some  of  its  contributors, 
Macaulay  speaks  of  Whitehead  (whom  he  calls 
Whithed)  as  '  the  most  accomplished  tuft-hunter 
of  his  time.'  He  also  reproaches  him  with  being 
forgotten.  This  is  surely  too  severe.  To  be  a 
tuft-hunter — although  no  social  recommendation 
— need  not  disqualify  a  man  for  poetry.  As  for 
being  forgotten,  that  has  happened  to  many  estim- 
able persons,  and  will  doubtless  happen  to  many 
more.  Whitehead  was,  of  course,  in  no  sense 
'  strenuous ' — possibly  he  was  constitutionally  of 
languid  vitality.  He  liked  ease  and  quiet.  He 
liked  refined  and  well-bred  people;  he  liked  the 
leisurely  amenity  and  the  large  air  of  great  houses 
in  the  country.    In  middle-age  he  was  fortunate 


Laureate  Whitehead  171 

enough  to  find  an  asylum  with  noble  friends  to 
whom  he  could  be  agreeable  without  subserviency, 
and  by  whom  he  was  esteemed  without  being 
patronized.  He  was  probably  a  delightful  com- 
panion to  his  *  superannuated  lord  and  lady,'  and 
to  all  their  circle.  Being  a  bachelor,  he  injured 
no  one  by  his  lack  of  ambition.  In  regard  to  his 
verses,  what  is  most  observable  is  the  extent  of 
his  qualifications,  and  the  moderate  standard  of 
his  achievement.  He  was  a  good  classical  scholar; 
he  had  travelled  intelligently;  he  was  apparently 
well-read  in  Continental  literature.  He  could 
write  heroics  like  Pope's,  blank-verse  like  Thom- 
son's, anapaests  like  Prior's, elegies  like  Gray's.  He 
had  considerable  humour,  and  a  convenient  gift 
of  epigram.  Dull  he  certainly  was  not — whatever 
Churchill  might  say.  But  he  seems  always  to 
have  been  afraid  to  depart  from  tradition — to  let 
himself  go.  He  imitates  where  he  should  originate. 
He  is  '  always  good  and  never  better.'  His  facility 
is  great,  his  taste  cultivated,  and  his  tone — for  his 
time — exceptionally  discreet.  Why,  with  this 
equipment,  he  did  not  do  greater  things,  may 
safely  be  left  to  the  Timothy  Tittles  and  Dick 
Minims  of  criticism  who  are  always  lamenting 
that  a  sunflower  is  not  a  rose — or  the  converse. 
Meanwhile,  it  is  satisfactory  to  think  sympathetic- 


172  Laureate  Whitehead 

ally  of  that  placid,  sauntering,  summer-day  life  in 
the  gardens  of  Middleton  Park  or  Nuneham, 
where  'Farmer  George's'  Laureate  sometimes 
meditated  a  birthday  ode,  and  sometimes  turned 
an  inscription  for  an  urn  or  a  sundial. 


LYTTELTON 
AS  MAN  OF  LETTERS 

READERS  who  are  accustomed  to  the 
milder  methods  of  modern  criticism  would 
be  interested  to  consult  the  '  Quarterly  Review ' 
for  1847  o'^  ^^'^  *  Memoirs  and  Correspondence 
of  George,  Lord  Lyttelton.'  Macaulay,  it  may 
be  remembered,  was  in  the  habit  of  robustiously 
'  dusting  the  jackets '  of  some  of  those  who  were 
submitted  to  his  regime  in  the  '  Edinburgh.'  But 
the  fashion  of  his  rival  in  the  bufF  organ — it  was, 
of  course,  the  redoubtable  and  Right  Honourable 
John  Wilson  Croker — wellnigh  warrants  the  em- 
ployment of  a  more  ferocious  transatlantic  figure. 
He  *just  v/ipes  the  floor'  with  his  unfortunate 
victim,  whose  minutest  errors  seem  to  have  been 
inspected  through  a  magnifier  of  what  Sam  Weller 
calls  '  hextra  power.'  '  Loose  and  incoherent 
style,'  '  blunder,  ignorance,  misstatement,  and 
bad  taste,'  '  slovenly  piece  of  biography,'  '  most 
imbecile  and  bungling  of  compilations ' — these  are 
some  of  the  flowers  of  speech  which  the  terrible 
'  Rigby '   scatters    benigno    cornu.     Whether    the 

173 


174  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

'  Memoirs '  suffered  materially  from  this  barbarous 
usage,  we  know  not.  But  there  are  no  traces  of  a 
second  edition  in  the  British  Museum  Catalogue; 
and  as  the  book  not  only  contains  much  valuable 
material  but  apparently  constitutes  the  only  life 
of  Lyttelton,  it  may  be  pardonable  to  revert  to 
its  subject.  Perhaps  it  would  be  more  exact  to 
say  a  part  of  its  subject,  since  Lyttelton,  as  a 
political  figure,  would  now  be  difficult  to  revive. 
It  is  true  that  he  was  the  sometime  favourite  of 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales;  the  friend  and  con- 
nection of  the  elder  Pitt;  the  'declared  enemy' 
of  Sir  Robert  Walpole.  But  he  was  neither  an 
eminent  speaker  nor  a  great  administrator  (as 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  he  was  admittedly 
over-parted):  and  when,  at  seven-and-forty,  he 
'rested' — as  Johnson  says — 'from  political  turbu- 
lence in  the  House  of  Lords,'  he  had  added  no 
memorable  name  to  the  annals  of  English  state- 
craft. Luckily — in  Johnson's  words  once  more — 
'  politicks  did  not  so  much  engage  him  as  to  with- 
hold his  thoughts  from  things  of  more  importance.' 
He  wrote  '  Persian  Letters  '  (after  Montesquieu) ; 
he  wrote  '  Dialogues  of  the  Dead  '  (after  Lucian); 
both  of  which  found  an  honourable  place  in 
Harrison's  '  British  Classicks.'  He  wrote  a  com- 
pact and  closely-reasoned  pamphlet  on  the  '  Con- 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  175 

version  of  St.  Paul';  he  wrote  an  extraordinarily 
conscientious  and  laborious  '  History  of  Henry  II.' 
He  also  composed  a  sufficient  number  of  minor 
poems  to  secure  his  admission  to  those  wonderful 
*■  Lives  of  the  Poets '  which  tolerated  Stepney 
and  Fenton  while  they  gave  grudging  praise  to 
Milton  and  Gray.  He  was  the  patron  and  friend 
of  Fielding  and  Thomson;  he  was  'ironed'  by 
Chesterfield,  and  he  was  libelled  by  Smollett. 
These  things — it  is  submitted — are  distinctions 
which  should  serve  to  justify  some  passing  inquiry 
into  his  personality  as  a  man  of  letters. 

The  eldest  of  the  six  sons  of  Sir  Thomas 
Lyttelton,  Bart.,  of  Hagley,  in  Worcestershire,  he 
was  born  on  17th  January  1709,  his  mother 
being  a  daughter  of  Sir  Richard  Temple  of  Stowe, 
afterwards  Pope's  Lord  Cobham.  Hewaseducated 
at  Eton,  where  he  was  an  oppidan,  which  means 
that  the  books  contain  no  records  of  him.  But  as 
we  now  know  his  contemporary  Fielding  was 
there  in  172 1-2,  it  is  probable  that,  being  some- 
what younger,  he  began  to  attend  about  this  date. 
Other  of  his  contemporaries  were  William  Pitt 
afterwards  Earl  of  Chatham,  whose  elder  brother, 
Thomas  Pitt  of  Boconnoc,  eventually  married 
Lyttelton's  sister;  Charles  Hanbury,  later  Sir 
Charles  Hanbury  Williams,  and  Henry  Fox,  first 


176  Lyttclton  as  Man  of  Letters 

Lord  Holland.  Gilbert  West,  Lyttelton's  cousin, 
had  probably  quitted  Eton  before  Lyttelton  arrived 
there,  as  West  matriculated  at  Christ  Church  in 
1722.  According  to  Johnson,  Lyttelton  was 
early  distinguished  for  ability,  so  much  so  that 
his  exercises  were  '  recommended  as  models  to  his 
schoolfellows.'  He  is  also  stated  to  have  sketched, 
if  not  elaborated,  at  Eton  some  of  his  best  verses, 
the  *  Soliloquy  of  a  Beauty  in  the  Country,'  which 
certainly  exhibits  unusual  precocity  for  a  lad  of 
seventeen,  his  age  when  he  went  up  to  Oxford. 
It  has  obvious  affinities  with  Pope's  earlier  epistle 
to  Teresa  Blount  on  leaving  Town.  *  Ah,  what 
avails  it,'  sighs  the  heroine,  *  to  be  young  and  fair: 
To  move  with  negligence,  to  dress  with  care? ' 

With  every  grace  of  nature  or  of  art, 
We  cannot  break  one  stubborn  country  heart  j 
The  brutes,  insensible,  our  powers  defy  : 
To  love,  exceeds  a  'squire's  capacity. 

She  is  evidently  terribly  bored: 

In  stupid  indolence  my  life  is  spent, 

Supinely  calm,  and  dully  innocent : 

Unblest  I  wear  my  useless  time  away; 

Sleep  (wretched  maid!)  all  night,  and  dream  all  dayj 

Now  with  mamma  at  tedious  whist  I  play; 

Now  without  scandal  drink  insipid  tea; 

Or  in  the  garden  breathe  the  country  air, 

Secure  from  meeting  any  tempter  there ! 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  lyy 

all  of  which  unmistakably  indicates  what  has  been 
felicitously  called  the  'intolerable  ennui  of  a 
waveless  calm';  and  from  one  of  the  author's 
later  letters  to  his  father,  perhaps  not  inaccurately 
reproduces  someof  the  domestic  routine  of  Hagley. 
But  though  headed  in  his  works  'Written  at 
Eaton  School,'  the  verses  were  not  printed  till 
long  afterwards,  and  were  doubtless  revised  in  the 
interval. 

Lyttelton  matriculated  at  Christ  Church  in 
February  1726.  There  is  no  record  of  his  uni- 
versity life;  and  he  left  Oxford  in  a  couple  of 
years,  without  taking  a  degree.  It  is  possible  that 
many  of  his  poems  belong  to  this  procreant  time; 
but  the  only  published  piece, '  Blenheim,'  that  is, 
the  palace  not  the  battle,  appeared  in  1728.  Its 
Miltonic  blank  verse  has  no  particular  merit,  and 
it  neither  rivals  Addison  nor  Philips.  But  it 
pleased  the  '  terrible  Old  Sarah,' whom  it  indirectly 
likened  to  Eve,  which  may  certainly  be  accepted 
as  evidence  of  imagination.  By  the  time  it  was 
in  type  the  author  was  already  well  advanced  in 
the  regulation  Grand  Tour.  His  first  tarrying- 
place  was  Luneville  in  the  then  independent 
Duchy  of  Lorraine.  But  despite  letters  of  intro- 
duction from  Sir  Robert  Walpoie  to  the  Prince 
de  Craon,  and  despite  the  civilities  of  the  reigning 

N 


178  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

Duke,  Lyttelton  speedily  wearied  of  his  environ- 
ment.   In  the  leading  amusements,  hunting  and 
the  interminable  quadrille,  he  took  no  part;  the 
English  residents  were  an  '  unimproving  society' 
who  would  not  let  him  learn  French,  while  the 
scrupulous  punctilio  of  a  petty  court  was  intoler- 
able to  one  who  by  nature  was  unusually  absorbed 
and  absent.   He  consequently  obtained  his  father's 
leave  to  move  to  Soissons,  where  a  congress  was 
then  engaged  in  the  negotiations  which,  a  year 
later,  ended  in  the  Treaty  of  Seville.    One  of  the 
English   plenipotentiaries  was   Stephen   Poyntz, 
formerly  Envoy  to  Sweden,  with  whom  he  be- 
came domesticated,  and  to  some  extent  instructed 
in  matters  diplomatic.   What  was  more,  he  began 
to  make  rapid  progress  in  French,  writing  fre- 
quently in  that  language  to  his  father.    He  was  in 
Paris  at  the  general  jubilation  for  the  birth  of  the 
Dauphin    on   4th   September    1729.     'The    ex- 
pressions of  their  [the  Parisians']  joy,'  he  says, 
'are  admirable:    one  fellow  gives  notice  to  the 
publick,  that  he  designs  to  draw  teeth  for  a  week 
together  on  the  Pont  Neuf  gratis.'  ^   From  Soissons 
he  passed  in  the  following  October  to  Geneva, 
stopping  on  his  way,  like  every  one  else,  at  the 
Convent  of  the  Chartreuse.   Then  he  went  on  to 
1  Letter  of  8th  September  [1729]. 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  179 

Turin,  Genoa,  Venice,  and  Rome,  from  which 
place  his  last  letter  is  dated  in  May  1730.  His 
correspondence  has  little  of  the  incidents  of  travel 
— indeed,  he  specially  disclaims  the  keeping  of  a 
journal  and  the  copying  of  inscriptions.  But  one 
of  his  letters,  written  from  Lyons  in  October 
1729,  contains  a  careful  summary  of  the  state  of 
France  under  the  young  King  Louis  XV  and  his 
minister  Cardinal  Fleury — a  sketch  which,  by  its 
references  to  the  abject  slavery  of  the  people,  the 
swarms  of  idle  ecclesiastics,  the  demands  of  mili- 
tary service,  the  chimerical  class  distinctions,  and 
the  grinding  poverty  of  the  country  in  general, 
seems,  even  at  this  early  date,  to  anticipate  and 
presage  the  coming  storm  of  revolution/ 

In  a  rhymed  epistle  written  from  Paris  to  Dr. 
Ayscough,  Lyttelton  had  already  not  inaptly 
sketched  the  contemporary  French  characteristics : 

'  Twenty-four  years  later  comes  a  more  definite  note 
from  Chesterfield  -.  '  All  the  symptoms,  which  I  have  ever 
met  with  in  history,  previous  to  great  changes  and  revolu- 
tions in  government,  now  exist,  and  daily  increase,  in 
France.'  (Letter  to  his  Son,  25th  December  1753.)  Later, 
July  1760,  things  were  slowly  growing  worse.  'The 
French,'  said  Goldsmith, . .  .  '  are  imperceptibly  vindicating 
themselves  into  freedom.  ...  I  cannot  help  fancying  that 
the  genius  of  freedom  has  entered  that  kingdom  in  disguise. 
If  they  have  but  three  weak  monarchs  more,  successively 


i8o  Lytteltou  as  Man  of  Letters 

A  nation  here  I  pity  and  admire, 
Whom  noblest  sentiments  of  glory  fire, 
Yet  taught,  by  custom's  force,  and  bigot  fear. 
To  serve  with  pride,  and  boast  the  yoke  they  bear : 
Whose  nobles,  born  to  cringe,  and  to  command, 
In  courts  a  mean,  in  camps  a  generous  band; 
From  each  low  tool  of  power,  content  receive 
Those  laws,  their  dreaded  arms  to  Europe  give: 
Whose  people  (vain  in  want,  in  bondage  blest ; 
Though  plunder'd,  gay;  industrious,  though  opprest) 
With  happy  follies  rise  above  their  fate. 
The  jest  and  envy  of  each  wiser  state.^ 

This  was  not  the  writer's  only  production  in  verse 
during  the  Grand  Tour.  In  the  same  year  he 
addressed  a  commendatory  epistle  to  his  friend 
Mr.  Poyntz ;  and  from  Rome  he  sent,  through 
his  father,  another  to  Pope.  In  this,  after  some 
prefatory  compliment,  the  spirit  of  Virgil  is  in- 
voked to  dissuade  Pope  from  Satire — '  the  least 
attractive'    of  the    Muses.     Upon    this    matter 

on  the  throne,  the  mask  will  be  laid  aside,  and  the  country 
will  certainly  once  more  be  free/  ('  Citizen  of  the  World,' 
letter  Ivi.)  There  was  but  one  weak  monarch,  and  yet  it 
was  twenty-nine  years  to  the  taking  of  the  Bastille. 

1  After  transcribing  this  passage  in  its  place  it  was 
pleasant  to  find  that  it  had  been  chosen  for  commendation 
by  no  less  a  personage  than  Voltaire.  'These  verses,'  he 
wrote  to  Ly ttelton  in  May  1750,'  deserve  a  good  translator, 
and  they  should  be  learn'd  by  every  frenchman.' 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  i8i 

Lyttelton  had  already  delivered  himself  in  an 
earlier  letter. '  I  am  sorry  he  wrote  the  "  Dunciad," ' 
he  says;  and  in  sending  the  poem  to  Sir  Thomas, 
he  refers  to  'the  good  piece  of  advice'  he  has 
ventured  to  give,  he  hopes  opportunely.  If  not 
taken,  it  w^as,  at  all  events,  not  taken  amiss,  for 
Pope  made  several  subsequent  references  to  his 
young  friend,  all  of  them  kind.  Moreover,  he 
even  condescended  to  correct  four  eclogues  which, 
under  the  title  of  the  '  Progress  of  Love,'  Lyttel- 
ton printed  in  1732.  But  they  are  not  their  poet's 
masterpieces;  and  belong  distinctly — as  much  as 
their  model,  Pope's  own  '  Pastorals ' — to  the  arti- 
ficial growths  of  Parnassus.  One  can  well  imagine 
old  Johnson  blinking  scornfully  into  that  sham 
Arcadia,  with  its  Delias  and  Damons.  They 
'cant,'  he  says,  'of  shepherds  and  flocks,  and 
crooks  dressed  with  flowers ' — things  which,  to 
be  sure,  were  never  to  be  encountered  in  Fleet 
Street.  Lyttelton  is  far  better  in  the  '  Advice  to 
a  Lady,'  of  a  year  earlier.  This  is  full  of  good 
sense,  although  the  superior  tone  assumed  by 
'mere  man,'  if  approved  by  Dorothy  Osborne  or 
Mary  Evelyn,  would  scarcely  commend  itself  in 
the  present  day: 

Let  e'en  your  prudence  wear  the  pleasing  dress 
Of  care  for  him,  and  anxious  tenderness. 


1 82  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

From  kind  concern  aboxit  liis  weal  or  woe, 
Let  each  domestick  duty  seem  to  flow. 
The  household  sceptre  \i  he  bids  you  bear, 
Make  it  your  pride  his  sewant  to  appear : 
Endearing  thus  the  common  acts  of  life, 
The  mistress  still  shall  charm  him  in  the  ivife, 
And  wrinkled  age  sliall  unobserved  come  on, 
Before  his  eye  perceives  one  beauty  gone ; 
E'en  o'er  your  cold,  your  ever-sacred  urn. 
His  constant  flame  shall  unextinguish'd  burn. 

From  the  last  couplet  the  poet  evidently  ex- 
pected the  pattern  spouse  to  predecease  her  hus- 
band, an  arrangement  which  would  scarcely 
have  found  favour  with  Mrs.  Bennet  of  '  Pride 
and  Prejudice.'  Johnson  justly  praises  the  *■  Advice 
to  a  Lady,'  but  it  is  not  difficult  to  understand 
how  its  somewhat  tutorial  note  prompted  the 
witty  summary,  or  '  pocket  version,'  of  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu : 

Be  plain  in  dress,  and  sober  in  your  diet: 
In  short,  my  deary,  kiss  me  and  be  quiet. 

Unless  we  class  Lyttelton's  letters  as  prose 
works,  his  earliest  published  effort  in  this  way 
was  a  '  little  treatise  '  entitled  '  Observations  on 
the  Life  of  Cicero,'  which  appeared  in  1731,  and 
passed  through  two  editions.  Joseph  Warton, 
who  knew  the  author,  thought  highly  of  this 
essay;    and   indeed,  preferred    its    '  dispassionate 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  183 

and  impartial  character  of  Tully '  to  those  later 
and  more  pretentious  volumes  of  Conyers  Middle- 
ton  which  Lord  Hervey  so  carefully  purged  of 
'low  words  and  collegiate  phrases.'^    But  Lyttel- 
ton's  first  prose  production  of  importance  is  the 
*■  Letters  from  a  Persian  in  England  to  his  Friend 
at  Ispahan.'  These,  some  of  which,  from  a  sentence 
in  his  opening  letter  to  his  father,  must  have  been 
sketched  before  he  went  abroad,  are  avowed  imi- 
tations of  Montesquieu,  whom  he  had  known  in 
England  previous  to  1734,  and  to  this  date  the 
majority  of  them  probably  belong.    According  to 
Warton,  in  later  life  their  author  felt  they  con- 
tained '  principles  and  remarks  which  he  wished 
to  retract  and  alter,'  and  he  would  willingly  have 
withdrawn  them  from  his  works.   But  not  lightly 
is  the  written  word  recalled:  and  the  booksellers  did 
not  let  them  die,  for  all  their  evidences  of  that 
'  spirit  of  Whiggism '  which  his  continental  ex- 
periences of  arbitrary  power  had  confirmed,  and 
which  made  him,  on  his  return,  the  favourite  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  and  the  sworn  foe  of  his  father's 
patron,  Walpole.    In  general,  they  present  much 

*  Acting  upon  a  polite  suggestion  of  Middieton,  Lyttel- 
ton afterwards  returned  to  this  subject  in  some  '  Observa- 
tions on  the  Roman  History '  which  are  included  in  vol.  i  ot 
the  third  edition  of  his  'Works,'  1776. 


184  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

the  samefeaturesasmostof  the  imitations  prompted 
by  Montesquieu's  famous  book.  The  author  visits 
the  various  places  of  amusement,  marvels  at  the 
sensuous  effeminacy  of  the  Italian  Opera,  the 
brutalities  of  the  bear-garden,  the  forlorn  condition 
of  the  poor  debtor,  the  craze  for  cards,  the  pre- 
valence of  intrigue,  the  immorality  of  stage  plays — 
and  so  forth.  Other  letters  deal  with  political 
corruption,  the  humours  of  elections,  the  inequal- 
ity of  Parliamentary  representation,  the  apathy 
of  the  clergy.  Some  of  the  points  raised  are  still 
in  debate,  as  the  functions  of  the  House  of  Lords 
and  the  shortcomings  of  a  too-exclusively-classical 
education.  In  the  thirty-eighth  letter  there  is  an 
illustration,  v^^hich,  whether  borrowed  or  not,  has 
become  popular.  Speaking  of  the  supplies  granted 
by  the  Commons  to  the  Government,  it  is  said 
'that  when  these  gifts  are  most  liberal,  they  have 
a  natural  tendency,  like  plentiful  exhalations 
drawn  from  the  earth,  to  fall  again  upon  the  place 
from  whence  they  came.'  Elsewhere,  there  is  a 
compliment  to  Pope:  'We  have  a  very  great  poet 
now  alive^  who  may  boast  of  one  glory  to  which 
no  member  of  the  French  Academy  can  pretend, 
viz.,  that  he  never  flattered  any  man  in  power^ 
but  has  bestowed  immortal  praises  upon  those 
whom,  for  fear  of  offending  men  in  power^  if  they 


Lyttelto7i  as  Man  of  Letters  185 

had  lived  in  France,  under  the  same  circumstances, 
no  poet  would  have  dared  to  praise.'  Pope  must 
have  recollected  this  when,  two  years  later,  he 
spoke,  in  the  'Imitations  of  Horace,'  of  'young 
Lyttelton  '  as  '  still  true  to  Virtue  and  as  warm 
as  true.'  It  is  perhaps  a  natural  thing  to  contrast 
the  '  Persian  Letters  '  with  the  later  '  Citizen  of 
the  World  'j  and  to  wonder  why  one  is  forgotten 
and  the  other  remembered.  The  reason  is  not 
far  to  seek.  If  Goldsmith's  book  had  been  no 
more  than  the  ordinary  observations  of  an  intelli- 
gent and  educated  spectator,  it  would  scarcely  be 
the  classic  it  remains.  But  the  'Citizen'  has 
humour  and  fancy  and  genius,  of  which  there  is 
nothing  in  Lyttelton.  His  portraits  of  his  father 
(letter  xxxvi),  and  of  Bishop  Hough  of  Worcester 
(letter  Ivi),  already  celebrated  in  the  '  Epistle  to 
Ayscough,  are  filial  and  friendly;  but  they  are 
not  the  '  Man  in  Black,'  or  the  unapproachable 
'  Beau  Tibbs.'  The  most  to  be  said  of  the '  Persian 
Letters  '  is,  that  they  are  common-sense  comments 
on  contemporary  ethics,  politics,  and  philosophy; 
and  that,  for  so  young  a  man,  they  are  exception- 
ally mature. 

The  'Persian  Letters'  appeared  in  1735;  and 
up  to  that  date  Lyttelton's  metrical  productions, 
subsequent  to  the  'Advice  to  a  Lady,'  had  been 


1 86  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

confined  to  versions  of  Horace  and  TibuUus,  and 
conventional  invocations  of  a  real  or  imaginary 
'Delia,'  one  of  which  last  with  the  burden  'Tell 
me,  my  heart,  if  this  be  love?'  should  have  been 
popular  as  a  song.^  To  this  period  also  belongs 
an  epigram — in  the  Greek  sense — which  has  found 
its  way  into  some  of  the  anthologies : 

None  without  hope  e'er  lov'd  the  brightest  fair  : 
But  Love  can  hope,  where  Reason  would  despair. 

From  1735,  however,  until  his  marriage  seven 
years  later  to  Miss  Lucy  Fortescue,  most  of  his 
poetry  was  addressed  to  this  lady,  and  several  of 
the  pieces,  though  purely  occasional,  have  a  grace 
which  seems  born  of  genuine  impulse.  A  little 
octave,  too,  of  this  date,  addressed  to  Gilbert 
West,  of  Wickham,  is  justly  commended  by  Mr. 
Courthope  as  exhibiting  something  of  the  simpli- 
city which  was  to  be  a  leading  feature  of  the  com- 
ing Nature-worship.  Lyttelton's  wife,  to  whom  he 
was  devotedly  attached,  died  in  January  1747; 
and  what  was  generally  accounted  his  best  poem 
is  the  long  monody  he  consecrated  to  her  memory. 

*  Hood,  at  all  events,  remembered  it  in  one  of  his  queer 
little  sketches  for  '  Whims  and  Oddities.'  Another  song, 
*  The  heavy  hours  are  almost  past,'  is  said  to  have  been  a 
favourite  with  Fox.   (Rogers's  '  Table  Talk,' 1856,  p.  95.) 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  187 

Of  this,  the  best  latter-day  report  must  be  that, 
like  the  obsequious  curate's  egg,  it  is  '  excellent 
in  parts.'  Gray,  a  critic  from  whom,  in  any  age, 
it  is  difficult  to  differ,  regarded  it  as  at  times  '  too 
stiff  and  poetical,'  by  which  latter  epithet  he  no 
doubt  meant  to  deprecate  the  employment,  in  a 
piece  aiming  above  all  at  unfeigned  expression, 
of  classical  accessory  and  conventional  ornament. 
'  Nature  and  sorrow,  and  tenderness,  are  the  true 
genius  of  such  things ' — he  wrote  unanswerably 
to  Walpole;  and  these  he  found  in  some  degree, 
particularly  in  the  fourth  stanza,  which  every  one 
consequently  quotes  after  him.  But  that  which 
immediately  follows,  its  awkward  closing  couplet 
excepted,  is  nearly  as  good; 

O  shades  of  Hagley,  where  is  now  your  boast  ? 

Your  bright  inhabitant  is  lost. 
You  she  preferred  to  all  the  gay  resorts 
Where  female  vanity  might  wish  to  shine, 
The  pomp  of  cities,  and  the  pride  of  courts. 
Her  modest  beauties  shunn'd  the  publick  eye  : 

To  your  sequester'd  dales 

And  flower-embroider'd  vales 
From  an  admiring  world  she  chose  to  fly  : 
With  Nature  there  retir'd,  and  Nature's  God, 

The  silent  paths  of  wisdom  trod, 
And  banish'd  every  passion  from  her  breast, 

But  those,  the  gentlest  and  the  best. 


1 88  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

Whose  holy  flames  with  energy  divine 
The  virtuous  heart  enliven  and  improve, 
The  conjugal  and  the  maternal  love. 

With  the  death  of  Mrs.  Lyttelton  has  some- 
times been  connected  her  husband's  next  prose 
work,  the  pamphlet  entitled  '  Observations  on 
the  Conversion  and  Apostleship  of  St.  Paul'; 
and  it  is  perhaps  not  an  unreasonable  con- 
jecture that  his  bereavement  should  have  turned 
his  thoughts  in  more  serious  directions.  But 
from  a  letter  which  he  addressed  to  Thomson 
the  poet  in  May  1747,  it  is  clear  that  the 
'Observations'  were  composed  several  months 
before  Mrs.  Lyttelton  died,  '  I  writt  it '  (the 
pamphlet),  he  says,  'in  Kew  Lane  [where  Thom- 
son lived]  last  year,  and  I  writt  it  with  a  parti- 
cular view  to  your  satisfaction.  You  have  there- 
fore a  double  right  to  it,  and  I  wish  to  God  it 
may  appear  to  you  as  convincing  as  it  does  to 
me,  and  bring  you  to  add  the  faith  to  the  heart 
of  a  Christian.'  This  is  not  inconsistent  with 
the  statement  made  in  the  opening  lines  that 
the  '  Observations'  arose  out  of  a  late  discussion 
with  Gilbert  West,  in  which  Lyttelton  had  con- 
tended that  the  conversion  and  apostleship  of 
St.  Paul  alone,  taken  by  themselves,  were  sufficient 
to  prove  Christianity  a  divine  revelation,  though 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters         189 

it  perhaps  supports  Johnson's  allegation  in  West's 
life  that  '  at  Wickham,  Lyttelton  received  that 
conviction  which  produced  his  "Dissertation  on 
St.  Paul."'  What  seems  to  have  happened  is  this. 
Both  West  and  his  cousin,  having  come  in  early 
life  under  the  influence  of  Bolingbroke  and  Lord 
Cobham,  had  felt  difficulties  of  belief.  West, 
indeed,  admitted  that  for  a  season  he  had  actually 
gone  over  to  the  hostile  camp ;  but  Lyttelton,  he 
declared,  had  made  '  little  or  no  progress  in  those 
pernicious  principles.'  However,  about  1746 
they   had    both    been    attentively    studying    the 

*  evidences  and  doctrines  of  Christianity.'  In 
West's    case  these   investigations    produced   his 

*  Observations  on  the  Resurrection,'  which  ap- 
peared in  December  1746,  and  were  followed  in 
1747  by  Lyttelton's  '  Observations  on  the  Con- 
version of  St.  Paul.'  Both  works  long  retained  a 
distinguished  place  in  theological  literature,  but 
it  is  with  Lyttelton's  that  we  are  here  most 
concerned.^  Warburton  thought  it  '  the  noblest 
and  most  masterly  argument  for  the  truth  of 
Christianity  that  any  age  had  produced';  while 

^  The  author  of  the  *  Pursuits  of  Literature,'  loth  ed., 
1799,  P-  203,  includes  Lyttelton,  along  with  Butler  and 
Paley,  in  a  list  of  eight  books  indispensable  to  students  ot 
Theology. 


190  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

Johnson  declared,  with  equal  fervour,  that  it 
was  '  a  treatise  to  which  infidelity  had  never  been 
able  to  fabricate  a  specious  answer.'  West's  far 
bulkier  volume  procured  him  an  Oxford  Doc- 
torate of  Laws;  and  from  Spence's  'Anecdotes' 
we  learn  that  Lyttelton  was  concurrently  offered 
a  similar  distinction.  He  however  declined  it  on 
the  ground  that  his  work  was  anonymous,  con- 
tenting himself  with  the  commendations  of  his 
friends,  and  the  heartfelt  gratification  of  his  father. 
By  his  father's  death  in  1751  he  became  Sir 
George;  and  five  years  later,  with  the  break-up 
of  the  Newcastle  ministry,  he  was  created  Baron 
Lyttelton  of  Frankley,  near  Hagley.  This  ends 
his  official  life  as  a  politician ;  and  his  chief  literary 
productions  during  the  seventeen  years  which 
remained  to  him  were  three  in  number.  The 
first  is  a  couple  of  letters,  included  in  the  third 
volume  of  his  works,  describing  a  visit  to  Wales 
in  1756,  and  addressed  to  that  notorious  Archi- 
bald Bower  whose  dishonest  'History  of  the 
Popes'  was  exposed  by  Goldsmith's  'scourge  of 
impostors,'  Dr.  Douglas.  Lyttelton,  however,  if 
he  did  not  believe  Bower,  seems  to  have  thought 
better  of  him  than  most  people,  and  could  never 
be  induced  to  disown  him.  The  chief  merit  of 
the  letters  is   their  note  of  genuine  enthusiasm 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  191 

for  natural  beauty.  The  'Dialogues  of  the  Dead,' 
his  next  work,  is  avowedly  reminiscent  of  Lucian, 
Fenelon  and  Fontenelle;  but  it  is  his  best  effort, 
for  all  that  Walpole  profanely  called  it  '  Dead 
Dialogues,'  and  despite  Landor  and  the  admir- 
able 'New  Lucian  '  of  the  late  Henry  DuflFTraill, 
may  still  be  read  with  interest.  What  particular 
faint  praise  Johnson  intended  to  convey  by  saying 
that  the  dialogues  are  '  rather  effusions  than 
compositions'  must  depend  on  some  subtle  dis- 
tinction between  pouring  and  mixing  which 
escapes  us;  but  they  are  certainly  fluent  and 
clear,  and  could  only  have  been  '  effused '  by  a 
writer  of  exceptional  taste  and  scholarship.  To- 
day some  of  the  shades  evoked  are  more  than 
shadowy.  But  it  is  still  good  to  read  of  the  'Roi 
Soleil '  discoursing  with  Peter  the  Great  on  their 
relative  systems  of  sovereignty;  to  listen  to 
staunch  old  Chancellor  Oxenstiern  upbraiding 
Christina  of  Sweden  for  abdicating  the  throne  of 
Gustavus  Adolphus  in  order  to  consort  with  a 
parcel  of  painters  and  poetasters;  or  to  admire 
at  Apicius  and  the  epicure  Dartineuf  (Dodsley's 
master  and  Pope's  ham-pie  '  Darty  ')  comparing 
the  merits  of  Juvenal's  muraena  with  those  of  the 
Severn  lamprey,  and  smacking  ghostly  lips  over 
the  'apolaustic  gulosities'  ofLucullus  andiEsopus 


192  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

the  player.  Dartineuf  and  Apicius  are  finally 
lamenting  that  they  had  lived  too  early  for  West 
Indian  turtle,  when  they  are  roughly  recalled  by 
Mercury  to  the  virtues  of  Spartan  'black  broth  ' 
and  an  appetite.  As  might  be  expected,  several 
of  the  dialogues  turn  upon  literary  topics.  There 
is  an  edifying  discourse  between  '  Dr.  Swift '  and 
'Mr.  Addison,'  touching  the  curious  freak  of 
fortune  which  made  one  a  divine  and  the  other  a 
minister  of  State,  with  some  collateral  digression 
on  their  relative  forms  of  humour;  there  is 
another  between  Locke  the  dogmatizer  and  Bayle 
the  doubter.  Virgil  and  Horace  interchange 
compliments  until  they  are  interrupted  by  the 
creaking  pedantries  of  Scaliger,  who  has  to  be 
summarily  put  in  his  proper  place  by  a  reminder 
from  the  wand  of  the  shepherd  of  souls.  But  the 
longest  and  ablest  colloquy  is  between  Boileau 
and  Pope,  who  review  the  literature  of  their  re- 
spective countries.  This  was  a  theme  in  which 
Lyttelton  was  at  home.  What  is  said  of  Shake- 
speare and  Moliere,  of  Milton  and  Pope's '  Homer,' 
of  the  true  function  of  history,  of  the  new  French 
comedie  mtxte^  is  undeniable,  while  the  senti- 
ment with  which  Pope  winds  up  might  stand 
for  a  definition  of  intellectual  entente  cordiale: 
'I  would  have  them  [the  French]   be  perpetual 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  193 

competitors  with  the  English  in  manly  wit  and 
substantial  learning.  But  let  the  competition  be 
friendly.  There  is  nothing  which  so  contracts 
and  debases  the  mind  as  national  envy.  True 
wit,  like  true  virtue,  naturally  loves  it  own  image, 
in  whatever  place  it  is  found.'  ^ 

One  result  of  the  '  Dialogues  of  the  Dead,' 
was  to  embroil  the  author  with  some  of  the 
living.  Voltaire,  on  receipt  of  the  volume 
—  and  writing  in  English  —  warmly  contested 
the  allegation  placed  in  the  mouth  of  Pope 
('  Dialogue'  xiv,  p.  134)  that  he  had  been  ban- 
ished France  on  account  of  his  doctrines.  He 
pointed  out  with  much  ill-concealed  irritation 
that,  although  he  enjoyed  '  a  little  country  house 
near  Geneva^  his  manors  (of  Ferney  and  Tourney) 
were  situate  in  France;  and  that  he  had  never 
been  exiled.^  He  signed  himself  'Gentleman  of 
the  King's  Chamber,'  and  dated  from  '  my  castle 
of  Tornex  [Tourney]  in  Burgundy.'  Lyttelton 
replied  in  conciliatory  terms;  and  Voltaire — this 

1  Walpole  says  that  by  Pericles,  Lyttelton  figured  Pittj 
and  by  Penelope,  his  first  wife,  Lucy  Fortescue. 

^  Technically  this  was  true;  but  he  could  not  return  to 
Paris.  He  had  astutely  purchased  land  on  either  side  of 
the  frontier  near  Geneva,  and  thus  secured  to  himself 
retreats  both  in  France  and  Switzerland. 

O 


194  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

time  from  his  '  castle  of  Ferney  ' — rejoined  by- 
asking  that  a  contradiction  should  be  printed,  in 
terms  which  he  suggested.  The  offending  passage, 
however,  disappeared  entirely  from  Lyttelton's 
edition  of  1765.  But  as  ^Sylvanus  Urban,'  re- 
producing the  correspondence,  did  not  fail  to 
observe,  Voltaire's  tenacious  insistence  on  his 
social  status  and  possessions  contrasted  oddly 
with  his  former  censure  of  Congreve's  vanity  in 
wishing  to  be  regarded  as  a  gentleman  rather  than 
a  writer.^  Another  objector,  at  a  later  date,  was 
John  Wesley,  who,  although  he  professed  himself 
in  hearty  agreement  with  great  part  of  Lyttelton's 
book,  was  much  exercised  by  the  statement  of 
Mercury,  in  the  dialogue  between  Addison  and 
Swift,  that  the  Methodists,  Moravians  and  Hut- 
chinsonians  were  a  strange  brood  spawned  by 
'  Martin  ' — that  is,  Martin  Luther — in  Swift's 
'  Tale  of  a  Tub.'  '  Is  this  language,'  he  asks  in- 
dignantly in  his  'Diary'  for  August  17 70, 'for 
a  nobleman  or  a  porter?'  And  he  goes  on  to 
question  whether  his  lordship  really  knew  any 
more  of  the  matter  than  he  had  learned  from  the 
caricatures  of  Bishops  Lavington  and  Warburton. 
His    anger    was    pardonable,    though    Lyttelton 

^  'Letters  Concerning  the  English  Nation,'  1733,  pp. 
188-9. 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  195 

would  probably  have  explained  that  he  spoke 
dramatically,  and  was  not  responsible  for  Mer- 
cury's bad  manners.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was 
suspected  of  being  more  in  favour  of  Methodism 
than  against  it. 

Lyttelton's  magnum  opus — great  by  its  quantity 
rather  than  its  quality — was  his  long-incubated 
*  History  of  Henry  H.'  Originally  designed  for 
the  service  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  he  had  been 
collecting  material  for  it  as  early  as  1741,  but  his 
progress,  being  interrupted  by  politics,  was  in- 
termittent. '  The  little  leisure  I  have  at  present 
for  writing  [he  informs  Doddridge  six  years  later] 
will,  I  believe,  be  taken  up  in  finishing  my 
history  of  King  Henry  the  Second,  of  which  four 
books  are  already  written,  and  I  have  two  more 
to  write.  ...  I  am  far  from  thinking,  I  have 
writt  it  so  well  as  it  might  be  written,  but  of 
this  I  am  sure — that  I  have  done  it  more  justice 
than  they  ['  our  historians '],  were  it  only  in  the 
pains  I  have  taken  to  get  all  the  information 
that  contemporary  authors  could  give  me  upon 
the  subject,  which  as  yet  no  others  have  done.' 
So  much  pains  did  he  take,  that  it  was  eight 
years  more  before  he  managed  to  go  to  press; 
and  even  then  the  whole  book  'was  printed  twice 
over,  a  great  part  of  it  three  times,  and  many  sheets 


196  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

four  or  five  times.'  What  Johnson  calls  his  *  am- 
bitious accuracy'  made  him  employ  a  '  pointer' 
or  punctuating  expert,  at  increased  cost  to  him- 
self, and  with  the  astounding  result  that  the  third 
edition  comprised  no  fewer  than  nineteen  pages 
of  errata.  It  may  be  that  some  of  this  meticulous 
desire  to  be  correct  was  prompted  by  fear  of 
Smollett  and  the  'Critical  Review';  but  it  was 
obviously  subversive  of  spontaneity,  and  could  not 
fail  to  attract  the  persiflage  of  mockers  like  Wal- 
pole.  '  His  [Lyttelton's]  "  Henry  H  "  raises  no 
more  passion  than  Burn's  "  Justice  of  Peace,"  ' 
this  reader  said ;  and  he  had  earlier  expressed  the 
opinion  that  the  dread  of  present  and  future 
critics  rendered  Lyttelton's  works  '  so  insipid  that 
he  had  better  not  have  written  them  at  all.'  To 
Lyttelton,  nevertheless,  he  praised  the  first  in- 
stalment. In  1 77 1  the  book  was  finished,  the 
first  three  volumes  having  then  gone  into  three 
editions,  which  indicates  a  certain  popularity. 
The  two  leading  historians,  however,  were  not 
enthusiastic.  Hume  sneered  at  it;  and  Gibbon, 
who  reviewed  it  in  the  *  M^moires  litt<5raires  de 
la  Grande  Bretagne,'  says  in  his  'Autobiography' 
that  it  was  '  not  illuminated  by  a  ray  of  genius.' 
But  m  his  published  notice,  while  refusing  to  the 
author  the  praise  due  to  Robertson  and  Hume, 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  197 

he  gives  him  the  credit  of  being  a  ^hon  citoyen^  a 
*■  savant  iris  eclaire  '  and  an  ^  ecrivain  exact  et  im- 
partial.^ Possibly  the  modern  school  of  historians 
would  do  greater  justice  to  Lyttelton's  minute  and 
painstaking  method.  Hallam  quotes  *  Henry  II ' 
repeatedly;  and  the  author  of  the  '  Short  History 
of  England  '  calls  it  a  '  full  and  sober  account  of 
the  time.' 

As  a  politician  and  statesman,  Lyttelton  was 
naturally  well  known  to  many  prominent  con- 
temporaries. But  to  speak  here  of  Pitt  or  Boling- 
broke — of  Warburton  or  Horace  Walpole — would 
occupy  too  large  a  space;  and  it  must  suffice  in 
this  connection  to  single  out  three  or  four  exclu- 
sively literary  figures  to  whom  he  stood  in  the 
special  light  either  of  intimate  or  patron.  With 
Pope,  who  praised  him  more  than  once  in  print, 
he  had  been  acquainted  before  the  Grand  Tour; 
and  Pope,  as  we  have  seen,  had  corrected  his 
<  Pastorals.'  When  later  Lyttelton,  succeeding 
Bubb  Dodington,  became  the  Prince  of  Wales's 
secretary.  Pope  was  gradually  drawn  into  the 
Leicester  House  circle.  Both  the  secretary  and 
his  royal  master  made  frequent  visits  to  Twicken- 
ham; and  there  were  records,  on  urns  and  garden 
seats,  of  Pope's  sojourns  at  Hagley.  One  of  these 
described  him  as  '  the  sweetest  and  most  elegant 


198  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

of  English  poets,  the  severest  chastiser  of  vice, 
and  the  most  persuasive  teacher  of  wisdom.'  As 
far  as  one  can  gauge  Pope's  complex  nature,  he 
seems  to  have  been  genuinely  attracted  to  his 
young  admirer.  '  Few  have  or  ought  to  have  so 
great  a  share  of  me'  he  writes  in  1736;  and 
Lyttelton  retorting  four  years  later  in  the  House 
of  Commons  to  Henry  Fox's  taunt  that  he  con- 
sorted with  an  '  unjust  and  licentious  lampooner,' 
replied  proudly  that  he  regarded  Pope's  friendship 
as  an  honour.  It  was  to  Lyttelton  that  Pope  said 
on  his  death-bed :  '  Here  am  I  dying  of  a  hundred 
good  symptoms ";  and  to  Lyttelton  he  left  by 
will  four  marble  busts  of  poets  which  the  Prince 
had  given  him  in  1739  for  his  library.  These, 
representing  Spenser,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and 
Dryden,  were  still  at  Hagley  when  Carruthers 
wrote  Pope's  life. 

Another  visitor  to  Lyttelton's  Worcestershire 
home  was  the  genial  and  indolent  ^  author  of 
*  The  Seasons,'  for  whom  he  cherished  a  regard 
even  greater  than  that  which  linked  him  to  the 
pontiff  of  the  eighteenth-century  Parnassus.    He 

'  There  is  a  delightful  illustration  of  this  in  the  '  Malo- 
niona.'  Dr.  Burney,  finding  Thomson  in  bed  at  two  o'clock, 
asked  him  how  he  came  to  lie  so  long.  He  answered,  in 
his  Scottish  fashion, '  Because  he  had  no  mot-ti've  to  rise.' 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  199 

must  have  known  Thomson  for  some  years  pre- 
vious to  his  first  appearance  at  Hagley,  for  he 
had  already  secured  him  a  small  pension  from  the 
Prince  of  Wales.  But  in  August  1743  we  find 
Thomson  domiciled  at  Hagley,  rejoicing  in  its 
'quite  enchanting'  park,  and  in  the  superiority 
of  the  'Muses  of  the  great  simple  country'  to 
the  'little  fine-lady  Muses'  of  his  own  Rich- 
mond Hill.  With  Lyttelton's  aid  he  corrected 
'The  Seasons'  for  the  new  edition  of  I744> 
adding,  in  '  Spring,'  a  description  of  Hagley,  an 
address  to  Lyttelton,  and  references  to  that '  loved 
Lucinda,'  whom,  two  years  earlier,  Lyttelton  had 
brought  home  to  his  father's  house.  Lyttelton  it 
was  who  procured  for  Thomson  the  sinecure 
appointment  of  Surveyor-General  of  the  Leeward 
Islandsj  and,  as  we  have  seen,  it  was  under 
Thomson's  roof  that  the  '  Conversion  of  St. 
Paul '  was  penned.  Whether  Lyttelton  was  re- 
sponsible for  eight  out  of  the  nine  lines  describing 
Thomson  in  the  'Castle  of  Indolence'  is  doubtful; 
but  it  is  certain  that  the  poet  depicted  his  Hagley 
host  in  the  stanza  beginning 

Another  guest  ^  there  was,  of  sense  refined, 
Who  felt  each  worth,  for  every  worth  he  had; 


^  That  is — at  the  Castle  of  Indolence. 


200  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

Serene  yet  warm,  humane  yet  firm  his  mind, 
As  little  touched  as  any  man's  with  bad: 
Him  through  their  inmost  walks  the  Muses  lad, 
To  him  the  sacred  love  of  nature  lent. 
And  sometimes  would  he  make  our  valley  glad — 

though  he  could  not  persuade  himself  to  reside 
there  permanently.  Poor,  perspiring  Thomson, 
'  more  fat ' — in  his  own  words — '  than  bard 
beseems,'  did  not  survive  his  best  poem  many 
months.  But  his  friend's  regard  followed  him 
beyond  the  grave;  and  in  Lyttelton's  prologue 
to  Thomson's  posthumous  tragedy  of  '  Corio- 
lanus'  occurs  the  oft-quoted  couplet  crediting  its 
author  with 

Not  one  immoral,  one  corrupted  thought, 
One  line  which  dying  he  could  wish  to  blot.^ 

To  a  third  poet,  who  also  contributed  his 
'  melodious  tear '  to  Thomson's  memory,  both 
Lyttelton  and  Thomson  occasionally  paid  visits. 
In  Halesowen  parish,  not  many  miles  away,  lived 
Shenstone,  whose  'Judgment  of  Hercules'  had 
been  addressed  to  Lyttelton,  and  who  was  gradu- 
ally turning  his  paternal  farm  at  the  Leasowes 

'  The  question  oF  Lyttelton's  literary  relations  with 
Thomson  is  exhaustively  and  conclusively  treated  in  Mr. 
G.  C.  Macaulay's  excellent  monograph  on  Thomson  in 
the  '  Men  of  Letters  '  series,  1908. 


Ly  Helton  as  Man  of  Letters  201 

into  a  paradise  of  landscape  gardening  and  cows 
(like  Walpole's)  coloured  to  fancy.  Indeed,  if  we 
are  to  believe  contemporary  tittle-tattle,  the 
laurels  of  the  Leasowes  affected  the  sleep  of 
Hagley.  But  we  care  nothing  for  gossip  in  this 
instance.  Shenstone,  moreover — whose  likings 
have  been  described  as  'tepid' — seems  to  have 
been  more  a  neighbourly  acquaintance  than  a 
close  intimate;  and  we  turn  from  his  to  another 
name  with  which  that  of  Lyttelton  is  more 
definitely  connected.  Fielding,  as  short-lived  as 
Thomson,  had  been  Lyttelton's  school-mate  at 
Eton.  Yet  save  for  a  reference  to  Lyttelton  in 
Fielding's  '  True  Greatness,'  until  the  period 
which  followed  the  first  Mrs.  Fielding's  death, 
we  hear  little  of  their  relations,  although  Fielding 
expressly,  both  in  a  letter  congratulating  Lyttelton 
on  his  second  marriage,^  and  in  the  '  Dedication  ' 
of '  Tom  Jones,'  makes  reference  to  Lyttelton's 
past  good  offices.  'To  you,  sir,'  he  writes,  'it  is 
owing  that  this  History  was  ever  begun.  It  was 
by  your  Desire  that  I  first  thought  of  such  a 
Composition  ...  I  partly  owe  to  you  my 
Existence  during  great  Part  of  the  Time  which 
I  have   employed    in   composing   it.'    It   is  also 

'   Lyttelton  married  again;  but,  as  Johnson  says  curtly, 
*  the  experiment  was  unsuccessful.' 


202  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

known  that  Lyttelton  was  instrumental  in  ob- 
taining for  him  that  office  of  Middlesex  magis- 
trate in  which  he  ended  his  days.  Whether  he 
was  much  at  Hagley  cannot  be  directly  affirmed, 
though  he  probably  stayed  there  occasionally 
during  the  progress  of  his  masterpiece.  But  the 
only  positive  evidence  of  his  commerce  with  its 
owner  outside  London  is  the  record  of  the  reading 
of '  Tom  Jones '  in  manuscript  to  Lyttelton,  Pitt 
(afterwards  Lord  Chatham),  and  Sanderson  Miller 
the  architect,  at  Radway  Gange,  the  house  of  the 
last-named,  near  Edge  Hill,  in  Warwickshire.^ 

Lyttelton's  benefactions  to  Fielding  were  ac- 
knowledged by  their  recipient  with  all  the  gener- 
osity of  gratitude  that  characterized  him.  But 
Lyttelton  was  not  equally  fortunate  in  every 
case  where  he  desired  to  assist.  Smollett,  for 
example,  arriving  from  Glasgow  in  all  the  ardour 
of  youthful  talent  with  a  tragedy  in  its  pocket, 
applied   to  him   for  his  interest.    To  get 'The 

1  '  Rambles  Round  Edge  Hills,'  by  the  Rev.  George 
Miller,  1896,  pp.  16-17.  Sanderson  Miller,  it  is  here 
stated,  designed  the  alterations  made  by  Lyttelton  at 
Hagley  in  1759-60.  He  was  also  responsible  for  an  earlier 
'  ruined  castle'  in  the  park,  which  (according  to  Walpole) 
had  '  the  true  rust  of  the  Barons'  Wars.'  (Toynbee's 
'Walpole's  Letters,'  iii  (1903),  p.  186.) 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  203 

Regicide '  acted,  however,  was  beyond  the  power 
of  patronage;  and  though  Lyttelton  doubtless  did 
what  he  could,  he  was  unsuccessful.  In  revenge, 
the  disappointed  author  brought  him  into  '  Rode- 
rick Random'  as  Earl  Sheerwit,  *a  Maecenas  in 
the  nation ' — an  indignity  subsequently  aggra- 
vated by  the  portrait  of  Gosling  Scrag,  patron  of 
letters,  in  '  Peregrine  Pickle.'  What  was  worse 
still,  in  the  same  novel  Smollett  allowed  himself 
to  perpetrate  a  very  miserable  parody  of  the 
'Monody,'  which  had  certainly  enough  of  sin- 
cerity to  deserve  the  respect  due  to  its  theme. 
For  these  and  other  exhibitions  of  bad  temper, 
Smollett's  better  judgment  eventually  made 
apology,  both  in  the  later  editions  of  '  Pickle,' 
and  in  his  '  History ' — apology  which  now 
serves  chiefly  to  authenticate  the  original  offence. 
Another  person,  befriended  by  Lyttelton,  was 
Edward  Moore  of  the  '  Fables  for  the  Fair  Sex,' 
who  had  courted  Lyttelton's  attention  by  an 
ingenious  complimentary  poem  entitled  '  The 
Trial  of  Selim  the  Persian  for  Divers  High 
Crimes  and  Misdemeanours ' — Selim  being  the 
Selim  of  the  '  Persian  Letters,'  whom  it  was  de- 
signed to  defend  against  certain  contemporary 
pamphleteers.  Johnson,  whose  utterances  about 
Lyttelton  have  always  a  note  of  acerbity,  says 


204  Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters 

that  Moore  was  'paid  with  kind  words'  alone; 
but  it  was  nevertheless  owing  greatl)'^  to  Lyttel- 
ton's  exertions  that  Moore  was  launched  on  his 
most  successful  enterprise,  '  The  World,'  for  it 
was  Lyttelton  who  obtained  him  most  of  the 
aristocratic  contributors  who  ensured  its  circula- 
tion. Finally,  it  was  probably  through  the  media- 
tion of  Lyttelton  that  David  Mallet  received  his 
Under-Secretaryship  to  the  Prince  of  Wales — a 
service  which  Mallet  is  assumed  to  have  repaid  by 
loosing  upon  Lyttelton  as  a  suitor  his  excitable 
and  vindictive  compatriot,  Mr.  Tobias  George 
Smollett. 

In  his  portrait  at  the  National  Portrait  Gallery, 
Lyttelton,  although  a  little  gaunt  and  angular,  is 
represented  as  dignified  and  sufficiently  person- 
able. He  has  not  fared  so  well  at  the  hands  of 
the  literary  artists.  Hervey's  sketch  is  in  his 
usual  malevolent  manner:  Walpole's  is  a  witty 
caricature.  '  With  the  figure  of  a  spectre,  and  the 
gesticulations  of  a  puppet' — writes  Horace — 'he 
talked  heroics  through  his  nose,  made  declama- 
tions at  a  visit,  and  played  at  cards  with  scraps 
of  history  or  sentences  of  Pindar.'  Neither  of 
these  presentments  should  matter  much ;  but 
they  have  been  in  some  measure  supported  by 
the    discussion    which      has     finally     identified 


Lyttelton  as  Man  of  Letters  205 

Lyttelton  with  the  'respectable  Hottentot'^ 
whom  his  relative,  Lord  Chesterfield,  held  up  as 
an  awful  warning  to  that  other  awful  warning, 
Philip  Stanhope  the  younger.  It  is  a  portentous 
picture — from  the  Chesterfield  point  of  view — 
of  physical  ungainliness,  personal  gaucherie,  and 
habitual  absence  of  mind.  That  it  is  purposely 
heightened  there  is  little  doubt;  but  that  it  had  a 
kind  of  basis  in  truth,  must  be  inferred  from  the 
fact  that  friendly  Mr.  Poyntz,  writing  from 
France  to  the  elder  Lyttelton  as  early  as  1729, 

^  It  is  refreshing  to  think  that  the  impeccable  Croker 
went  wrong  here.  '  It  was  certainly  meant  for  Johnson,' 
he  says.  Some  ot  young  Stanhope's  be'vues,  it  appears, 
had  to  be  concealed  from  his  affectionate  parent.  '  He 
was  .  .  .  even  In  his  riper  days,'  writes  Lord  Charlemont, 
*a  perfect  Tony  Lumpkin,'  and  he  goes  on  to  relate  an 
anecdote  told  him  by  Lord  Ellott,  an  eye-witness,  which 
has  a  further  connection  with  Goldsmith.  Once  at  Berne^ 
in  his  boyhood,  young  Stanhope  tied  the  periwigs  of  a 
number  of  grave  and  reverend  Swiss  senators  to  the  backs 
of  their  chairs,  and  then  lustily  cried 'Fire!'  on  which 
they  all  bounced  up  affrighted  and  bald-headed.  (Charle- 
mont Corr.,  Hist.  MSS.  Comm.,  i,  1891,  327.)  This 
is  precisely  the  trick  which  the  hero  of  '  She  Stoops  to 
Conquer'  is  said,  in  Act  I,  to  have  played  on  Mr.  Hard- 
castle,  and  which  is  usually  supposed  to  have  been  practised 
on  Goldsmith  himself  by  Lord  Clare's  daughter,  after- 
wards Marchioness  of  Buckingham. 


2o6  Lyttclton  as  Man  of  Letters 

notes  his  son's  already  confirmed  habits  of  ab- 
straction, *  even  at  meals,'  which  he  charitably 
attributes  to   dyspepsia.     It   is    said    besides   that 
his    voice    was    disagreeable,   and    his    utterance 
monotonous.    But  if  we  allow  his  external  dis- 
abilities to  have  been  exaggerated  by  unsympa- 
thetic report,  there  can  be  no  question  as  to  his 
mental  endowments.    He  may  not  have  been  a 
great  orator;   but   he  was    capable   and,   on   set 
occasions,  impressive.    He  '  spoke  well  when  he 
had  studied  his  speeches,'  says  Walpole,  who  was 
also  kind  enough  to  allow  that  he  was  not  wanting 
in  ability,  and  that  he  loved  '  to  reward  and  pro- 
mote merit  in  others.'    Chesterfield  also  sets  out 
by  testifying  to  his  '  moral  character,  deep  learn- 
ing, and  superior  parts.'   As  to  his  absolute  honesty 
and  integrity,  both  in  life  and  politics,  there  is  no 
diversity  of  opinion.    Nor  will  those  who  read  his 
physician's  plain  account  of  his  last  hours  hesitate 
to  credit  his  own  dying  declaration  that  he  was 
*a    most    firm    and    persuaded     believer   of    the 
Christian  religion.'    If  he  is  to  be  remembered 
apart  from  the  literary  performances  treated  in 
this   paper,  it  must   be,  not  as   the  'respectable 
Hottentot '  of  the  high  priest  of  the  Graces,  but 
as   the  model,  with   Ralph   Allen,  of  Fielding's 
'Mr.  All  worthy.' 


CHAMBERS  THE  ARCHITECT 

AT  the  summit  of  Richmond  Hill,  near  the 
end  of  the  Terrace,  and  not  far  from  the  tra- 
ditional glories  of  the  famous  '  Star  and  Garter/ 
once  stood  a  wayside  ale-house  known  as  the 
'  Bull's  Head.'  Its  position  must  have  been  unique, 
since  it  not  only  faced  the  road  entering  the  Park, 
and  thus  offered  timely  refreshment  for  travellers 
too  modest  to  seek  shelter  in  the  neighbouring 
resort  of  the  nobility  and  gentry,  but  at  the  back 
it  must  have  afforded  an  equal,  if  not  superior, 
prospect  of  the  winding,  shining  Thames,  with 
the  Twickenham  and  Petersham  meadows,  and — 
away  to  the  misty  sky-line — that  '  vast,  lus- 
cious landscape,'  whose  very  exuberance  made 
Thackeray,  out  of  pure  reaction,  long  for  *a 
couple  of  cows,  or  a  donkey,  and  a  few  yards  of 
common.'  Not  without  reason  was  it  that,  close 
to  the  site  of  this  humble  house  of  call,  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  erected  the  country  villa  to  which,  when 
he  could  tear  himself  from  Leicester  Fields  and 
the  *  human  face '  he  loved  better  than  Nature 

207 


2o8  Chambers  the  Architect 

herself,  he  was  accustomed  to  retire.  Within  its 
walls  he  welcomed  Fanny  Burney,  still  fluttered 
by  the  success  of  '  Evelina,'  and  the  great  Burke, 
and  the  orotund  Gibbon ;  from  its  drawing-room 
window,  he  painted  one  of  his  few  landscapes — a 
masterpiece  which  afterwards  passed  into  the  pos- 
session of  Samuel  Rogers.  But  its  chief  interest 
here  is,  that  it  was  designed  for  Reynolds  by  his 
friend  and  colleague  of  the  Royal  Academy,  Sir 
William  Chambers,  'Knight  of  the  Order  of  the 
Polar  Star'  of  Sweden,  and  further  known  to 
Fame  as  the  layer-out  of  the  grounds  at  Kew 
Palace  and  the  architect  of  the  present  Somerset 
House.  He  was  also  the  apostle  of  Oriental 
Gardening  and  the  butt  of  the  once  popular 
<  Heroic  Epistle.'  To  Chambers  we  propose  to 
devote  this  paper. 

In  the  commune  of  the  Landes  in  France,  by 
odd  accident,  had  been  established  in  the  seven- 
teenth century  certain  settlers  of  Scottish  descent 
named  Chalmers.  They  dwelt  on  the  river 
Midouze,  in  the  Calvinistic  town  of  Tartas,  of 
which  they  were  barons.  From  this  family,  some 
members  afterwards  migrated  to  Ripon  in  York- 
shire; and  the  head  of  the  branch,  a  wealthy 
merchant  having  much  business  in  Sweden,  had 
also  the  unprofitable  privilege  of  advancing  large 


Chambers  the  Architect  209 

sums  to  Charles  XII  for  munitions  of  war — ad- 
vances which  were  either  not  repaid  at  all,  or  re- 
paid in  exceptionally  base  coin.  To  prosecute 
outstanding  claims  the  more  effectually,  his  son  re- 
sided for  many  years  in  Stockholm,  where,  in 
1726,  his  grandson,  William  Chambers — to  which 
the  family  name  was  now  changed — was  born. 
Two  years  later  the  boy  was  brought  to  England, 
and  eventually  went  to  school  at  Ripon.  At  the 
early  age  of  sixteen  he  became  a  supercargo  on  a 
ship  in  the  employ  of  the  Swedish  East  India 
Company.  His  elder  brother  was  already  ac- 
quiring a  fortune  in  the  East  Indies,  and  it  was 
no  doubt  expected  that  the  younger  son  should 
follow  so  hopeful  an  example.  In  his  capacity  of 
supercargo.  Chambers  made  one,  or  perhaps  two, 
voyages  to  China.  Whether  he  also  made  money 
is  not  related ;  but  he  became  extremely  interested 
in  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  'Flowery 
Land'  and  particularly  in  its  buildings  and  cos- 
tumes. He  visited  Canton  and  other  places;  and 
being  already  an  excellent  amateur  draughtsman, 
managed  to  execute  numerous  sketches  of  houses, 
temples,  and  the  like.  As  he  was  youthful  and 
impressionable,  he  never  lost  the  fascination  of 
these  first  experiences.  The  cask — as  Horace 
says — remembers  its  first  wine;  and  it  must  have 

p 


2IO  Chambers  the  Architect 

been  long  before  he  ceased  to  care  for  hunch- 
backed bridges,  cannon-ball  trees,  and  all  the 
willow-pattern  vagaries  of  Lamb's  '  world  before 
perspective,'  Like  Lamb,  he  probably,  to  the  end 
of  his  days,  privately  preferred  the  china-closet  to 
the  picture  gallery. 

Meanwhile  his  Chinese  travels  had  the  effect 
of  determining  his  vocation;  and  he  began  to  study 
diligently  as  an  architect.  What  interval  elapsed 
between  his  giving  up  a  commercial  career  for  his 
new  profession,  and  how  long  he  worked  in 
London,  must  be  left  to  conjecture.  But  like 
every  other  student  of  those  days,  he  seems  to 
have  speedily  gravitated  to  Italy,  not  only  to 
measure  the  monuments  of  Roman  antiquity,  but 
also  to  make  minute  and  prolonged  study  of  the 
more  recent  works  and  methods  of  such  later 
masters  of  the  Classic  Style  as  Michelangelo  and 
Palladio,  Scamozzi  and  Vignola,  Peruzzi,  San- 
micheli,  and  the  much-vaunted  Chevalier  Bernini 
— artists  who,  while  following  the  principles  of 
the  antique,  had  contrived  to  combine  with  the 
best  tradition  something  of  their  own  originality 
and  initiative.  Chambers  also  devoted  consider- 
able attention  to  French  architecture,  as  mani- 
fested in  the  works  of  that  devotee  of  Vitruvius, 
Claude    Perrault,    the   designer    of  the    Louvre  j 


Chambers  the  Architect  211 

and  of  the  Grand  Monarque's  favourite,  Jules 
Mansard,  of  Versailles  and  Marly.  His  particular 
master  at  Paris  was  the  preternaturally  facile 
draughtsman,  Charles  Louis  Clerisseau,'  who 
afterwards  accompanied  Robert  Adam  to  England. 
When  Chambers  first  left  this  country  on  what 
amount  to  his  Wanderjahre  is  obscure;  but  as 
he  is  understood  to  have  returned  with  Joseph 
Wilton  the  sculptor  in  1755,  when  they,  too, 
brought  back  with  them  Cipriani  (whose  drawings 
his  countryman  Bartolozzi  afterwards  did  so  much 
to  popularize),  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  ter- 
mination of  his  long  Continental  course.  At  this 
date  Reynolds  had  completed  his  Italian  travels; 
but  it  is  just  possible  that,  either  at  Rome  or 
Florence,  Chambers  had  made  the  acquaintance 
of  his  future  colleague. 

In  any  case,  when  he  returned  to  London,  he 
must  have  been  remarkably  well-equipped  for  a 
calling  in  which,  under  George  II,  there  were  few 

^  Of  Clerisseau's  rapidity  it  is  related  that  once,  at  Rome, 
for  a  wager,  he  executed  sixty  different  drawings  '  between 
the  morning  and  evening  of  the  same  day.'  They  are  de- 
clared to  have  shown  'great  merit  and  variety.'  But  in 
these  matters  of  tours  de  force,  one  is  a  little  tempted  to 
recall  Piron's  verdict  on  the  versatility  of  Voltaire:  'Et 
la  besogne  est-elle  bonne  "i  .  .  .  Oh  !  non  !  ' 


212  Chambers  the  Architect 

formidcable  rivals.  Wren,  the  last  great  Anglo- 
Italian,  had  died  three  years  before  Chambers  was 
born,  and  none  had  yet  arisen  to  take  his  place. 
Cliambers  set  up  his  tent  in  Russell  Street,  Covent 
Garden,  next  door  to  *  Tom's'  famous  coffee- 
house, and  prepared  to  receive  v^^hat  Fate  might 
bring  to  him.  Being  without  means,  his  outlook 
was  vague  in  the  extreme.  Fortunately  he  found 
a  friend  in  John  Carr,  of  York,  the  architect  of 
many  English  country  seats.  It  so  happened  that 
Lord  Bute,  the  principal  adviser  of  the  widowed 
Princess  Augusta,  was  casting  about  for  some  one 
to  act  as  architectural  drawing  master  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  George  III,  and  Carr 
recommended  Chambers.  Discreet,  courtly,  and 
already  of  much  experience  in  men,  he  speedily 
became  a  favourite  with  his  royal  pupil  and  his 
royal  pupil's  mother.  How  far  he  inspired  the 
future  monarch  with  his  Oriental  tastes  we  know 
not;  but  following  the  then  prevailing  craze  for 
the  '  Sharawaggi^  or  Chinese  want  of  symmetry  ' 
of  which  Walpole  wrote,  and  which  had  moved 
the  ridicule  of  Whitehead  in  the  '  World,' '  he  set 

'  '  World,' No.  12, 22nd  March  1753.  '  Every  gate  to  a 
cow-yard' — says  the  writer — '  is  in  T's  and  Z's,  and  every 
hovel  forthe  cows  has  bells  hangingat  the  corners.'  Walpole 
says  that  the  founder  of  this  taste  was  Richard  Bateman, 


Chambers  the  A  rchitect  213 

himself  to  foster  the  fashion  by  an  elaborate  series 
of  '  Designs  for  Chinese  Buildings,  Furniture, 
Dresses,  Machines  and  Utensils.'  These,  which 
were  dedicated  to  his  pupil,  and  appeared  in  1757, 
were  based  mainlyupon  his  early  Chinese  sketches. 
Effectively  engraved  by  Grignion  and  others,  they 
enjoyed  considerable  vogue,  especially  as  they  in- 
cluded a  lengthy  introduction.  One  thing  which 
they  established  was  that  the  author  must  already 
have  made  the  acquaintance  of  Johnson,  among 
whose  'acknowledged  works,'  according  to  Bos- 
well,  figure  the  first  two  paragraphs  of  Chambers's 
preface.  It  may  be  also  that  Chambers  is  intended 
by  the  '  Mr.  Freeze '  who  makes  early  appearance 
in  Goldsmith's  '  Citizen  of  the  World,'  and  whose 
'Chinese  Temple'  is  found  to  be  wholly  un- 
recognizable by  the  outspoken  and  incorruptible 
Lien  Chi  Altangi. 

Chambers,  however,  was  too  clever  to  trust 
entirely  to  a  merely  fugitive  freak  of  the  popular 
taste ;  and  it  was  not  for  the  '  Sharawaggi '  style 
of  architecture  that  he  had  given  his  days  and 
nights  to  the  study  of  Palladio  and  Sanmicheli. 
In  1759  he  published  his  'Treatise  on  the  De- 
brother  of  the  first  Viscount  Bateman,  whom  he  (Walpole) 
susequently  converted  'from  a  Chinese  to  a  Goth.'  (Toyn- 
bee's  'Walpole's  Letters,'  xii  (1904.),  11.) 


214  Chambers  the  Architect 

corative  Part  of  Civil  Architecture,'  the  work  on 
which  his  reputation  as  a  writer  still  rests.    Wal- 
pole  declared  in  his  '  Anecdotes  of  Painting '  that 
it  was   'the  most  sensible  book,   and   the   most 
exempt  from  prejudices,  that  ever  was  written  on 
its  subject.'    And  if  it  be  retorted  that  Walpole 
wrote  in  the  architectural  dark  ages  of  1762,  it 
may  be  added  that   Chambers's   pupil   and  bio- 
grapher Hardwick,   and   his   editor  Gwilt,  both 
brothers  of  the  craft,  also  bear  testimony  to  its 
merits.    The  latter,  who  supplemented  it  in  1825 
by  an  examination  of  Grecian  Architecture,  a  part 
of  Chambers's  theme  which  he  had  more  or  less 
neglected,  nevertheless  speaks  of  it  even  then  'as 
the  only  text-book   in   our  language  which   has 
yet  appeared  worthy  of  being  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  student.'    The  subject  is  too  large  for  a 
layman;  but  it  was  doubtless  owing  to  Chambers's 
popularity  with  his  pupil,  and  his  proficiency  in 
architecture  and  Chinese  gardening,  that  he  was 
chosen  by  the  Princess  Augusta  to  improve  and 
decorate  the  grounds  at  Kew  House,  which,  after 
the  death  of  her  husband,  was  still  occupied  by 
her  as  a  residence.   With  a  flat  site,  poor  soil,  and 
neither  wood   nor  water,   the   task  cannot   have 
been  an  easy  one;   but  the  ingenuity  of  Chambers 
victoriously  overcame   these   obstacles,   and    his 


Chambers  the  A  rchitect  2 1 5 

clever  alternation  of  Chinese  structures  with 
Classic  temples  made  the  spot  '  the  delight  of  the 
native,  and  the  admiration  of  the  foreigner.'  ^  In 
a  sumptuous  folio  issued  in  1763,  at  the  royal 
command  and  cost,  with  the  title  of  'Plans,  Ele- 
vations, Sections,  and  Perspective  Views  of  the 
Gardens  and  Buildings  at  Kew,  in  Surry,  the  seat 
of  Her  Royal  Highness  the  Princess  Dowager 
of  Wales,'  Chambers  pictorially  perpetuated  his 
labours.  The  book  is  still  a  desideratum  to  the 
topographical  collector,  not  only  for  its  historical 
and  intrinsic  interest,  but  as  exemplifying  the  best 
illustrative  and  chalcographic  art  of  the  day. 
Cipriani  contributed  the  figures;  Kirby,  Thomas 
Sandby,  and  William  Marlow  the  '  views  ';  while 
Paul  Sandby,  Woollett,  Grignion,  Major,  Rooker, 
and  others,  took  charge  of  the  transference  of  the 
designs  to  copper. 

^  M.  Pierre-Jean  Grosley,  who  visited  this  country  in 
1765,  writes  enthusiastically  in  his '  Londres'  of  the  'jardins 
&  le  pare  que  le  Princesse  de  Galles  a  depuis  peu  formes  a 
Kiow.'  He  praises  their  infinite  variety,  their  temples  and 
pagoda;  their  verdant  lawns — '  le  plus  beau  vert  qui  soit 
dans  la  nature,'  to  which  his  attention  had  been  specially 
directed  by  the  pastellist  Latour.  ('Londres,'  1771,  iii,  125- 
132.)  Evidently  Latour  did  not  agree  with  his  compatriot 
Boucher,  who  thought  that  Nature  could  be  '  trop 
vertc.' 


2i6  Chambers  the  Architect 

The  majority  of  the  plans  and  architectural 
drawings  were  by  Chambers  himself;  and  from 
his  own  account  it  is  clear  that  his  operations 
must  have  begun  rather  earlier  than  is  supposed 
by  some  of  his  biographers;  and  also  that  he  was 
not  solely  responsible  for  all  the  much-discussed 
'  Chinoiseries.'  For  example,  there  was  already  in 
existence  a  two-storeyed  'House  of  Confucius,'  de- 
vised years  before  by  Joseph  Goupy  (who  had  also 
been  drawing-master  to  George  III),  the  walls 
and  ceilings  of  which  were  painted  with  scenes 
from  the  life  of  the  great  Oriental  law-giver,  and 
also  '  with  several  transactions  of  the  Christian 
Missions  in  China.'  Chambers's  earliest  effort 
seems  to  have  been  the  '  Gallery  of  Antiques,' 
which  dates  from  1757.  In  the  year  after  came 
the  Doric  'Temple  of  the  God  Pan,'  imitated 
from  the  Theatre  of  Marcellus  at  Rome;  and  the 
still  existent  'Temple  of  Arethusa.'  After  these 
followed  the  'Temple  of  Victory'  commemor- 
ating Minden  and  the  defeat  of  Marshal  de  Con- 
tades  by  Prince  Ferdinand  of  Brunswick;  the 
'  Ruin,'  a  realistic  reproduction  of  classical  an- 
tiquity in  bona-fide  brick  and  mortar,  and  not 
painted  like  its  historical  prototypes  at  Vaux- 
hall  or  Rueil;  the  'Temple  of  Bellona';  the 
'Mosque,'  with  its  edifying  Arabic  mottoes  from 


Chambers  the  Architect  217 

the  Koran  ;^  the  'Temple  of  the  Sun';  the 
Orangery  or  Green-house  (now  Museum  No.  Ill) 
and  the  Great  Pagoda,  The  latest  erection  at  the 
date  of  publication  of  the  book  was  a  temple  in 
honour  of  the  Peace  which  ended  the  Seven  Years' 
War.  From  the  above  it  will  be  seen  that  Cham- 
bers varied  his  inventions  considerably,  and  was 
not  exclusively  concerned  with  Classic  and  Chi- 
nese architecture.  One  of  the  buildings  unenu- 
merated  in  the  list  was  the  '  Alhambra,'  which 
anticipated  Owen  Jones  by  essaying  the  Moresque 
manner;  the  'Mosque'  was  naturally  Turkish, 
while  the  '  Temple  of  the  Sun,'  which  stands  not 
far  from  the  old  Orangery,  borrowed  hints  from 
Baalbek.  It  may  be  added  that  the  '  Temple  of 
Victory ' — for  which,  with  many  of  the  older 
bridges  and  the  like,  the  visitor  will  now  vainly  seek 
— either  from  its  shape  or  its  rapid  construction, 
was  popularly  known  as  the '  Mushroom  Temple' ; 
while  the  Temple  of  v^olus,  by  Cumberland 
Gate,  which  has  not  hitherto  been  mentioned, 
and  which  revolved  like  the  old  Observatory 
at  the  Albert  Memorial  at  Kensington,  was  ironi- 
cally likened  to  that  other  very  mutable  and  shift- 
ing establishment,  the  Court  at  Leicester  Fields. 

'  '  Let  there  be  no  force  in  religion ;  There  is  no  other 
God  except  the  Deity;  Make  not  any  likeness  unto  God.' 


2 1 8  Chambers  the  A  rchitect 

By  this  date,  and  independently  of  royal  patron- 
age, Chambers  must  have  been  well  established  as 
an  architect.     His  first  work  of  consequence  is 
said  to  have  been  Bessborough    House  at   Roe- 
hampton,  built  for  Brabazon  Ponsonby,  Earl  of 
Bessborough,    and    afterwards    memorable   as    a 
treasury  of  art  and  antiques.     It  has  long  been 
pulled    down.     To    the   first   Exhibition   of  the 
Society  of  Artists  of  Great  Britain  Chambers  did 
not  contribute;  but  to  the  second,  at  Spring  Gar- 
den, he  sent  plans  of  a  London  House,  a  Trium- 
phal  Bridge   for    Blackfriars,   and  a  Triumphal 
Arch  for  Lord  Pembroke's  seat  at  Wilton.    In 
the  catalogue  of  the  third  Exhibition  came  further 
architectural  designs ;  and,  what  is  more  material, 
the  drawings  for  the  'Ruin'  and  now-demolished 
'Temple  of  Victory '  at  Kew.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  follow  his  exhibits  in  later  years.  But  it  should 
be   noted   that   in   the   catalogue  of  1762    he   is 
described   as   'Architect   of  the  Works  to   His 
Majesty,  and  Architect  to  Her  Royal  Highness 
the  Princess  Dowager  of  Wales,'  which  must  be 
accepted  as  his  official  titles  at  this  period.    The 
mention  of  the  Society  of  Artists  also  serves  to 
recall  the  very  prominent  part  which  Chambers 
subsequently   took   in  the  establishment  of  the 
Royal  Academy,  of  which  he  was  first  Treasurer. 


CJia^nhers  the  Architect  219 

That  this  part  was  by  no  means  perfunctory 
must  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  one  of  the 
earliest  acts  of  the  General  Assembly  in  January 
1769  was  to  pass  a  resolution  thanking  Mr. 
Chambers  '  for  his  active  and  able  conduct  in 
planning  and  forming  the  Royal  Academy.'  Not 
only  had  he  acquired  from  his  early  training  an 
aptitude  for  business  to  which  his  colleagues  in 
general  were  strangers,  but  his  position  and  in- 
fluence with  the  Royal  Family  made  his  services 
invaluable  in  smoothing  initial  difficulties.  With 
all  the  persuasive  charm  of  Reynolds,  he  was  a 
better  organizer ;  and  though  on  more  than  one 
occasion,  notably  in  the  dispute  as  to  a  Professor- 
ship of  Perspective,  and  the  proposal  to  grant  a 
sum  of  money  for  Johnson's  monument  in  St. 
Paul's,  he  differed  from  his  associates,  his  relations 
with  them  and  their  first  President  were  perfectly 
harmonious. 

In  the  Correspondence  of  James,  first  Earl  of 
Charlemont,the  connoisseur  and  friendof  Hogarth, 
there  are  several  letters  from  Chambers,  whom 
his  Lordship  employed  in  connection  with  his 
Irish  houses.  They  are  largely  occupied  with 
matters  of  decoration  and  furniture^  but  occa- 
sionally contain  items  of  general  interest.  In  one 
of  them,  he  himself  claims  credit   for  'having 


220  Chambers  the  Architect 

brought  about'  the  Academy,  though,  for  the 
moment,  he  is  more  concerned  with  the  recent 
death  of  an  old  gentleman  who  for  eight  years 
has  'kept  him  out  of  a  place'  to  which  he  has 
just  been  appointed,  namely  that  of '  Controller 
General  of  His  Majesty's  Works.'  This  was  in 
March  1769.  Another  letter  thanks  Charlemont 
for  a  contribution  to  Baretti,  who  had  then  been 
acquitted  of  the  accidental  murder  of  a  man  in 
the  Hay  market.  His  friends — Chambers  says — 
have  paid  his  legal  expenses;  but  he  is  still  poor. 
In  a  third  communication  he  falls  foul  of  the 
'lonianAntiquities' issued  bytheDilettanti  Society, 
which  is  '  composed  of  some  of  the  worst  archi- 
tecture I  ever  saw,'  and  he  regrets  that  so  much 
money  has  been  wasted  upon  it.  But  all  this  is 
*  between  friends,'  as  he  is  hoping  to  establish 
a  Fellowship  in  the  Academy  for  sending  a  per- 
son abroad  annually  to  study  the  arts,  a  plan  he 
thinks  may  be  of  use. 

These  last  remarks  betray  a  touch  of  that  im- 
patience of  competition  which  afflicts  so  many 
estimable  people,  and  perhaps  was  all  the  keener 
in  Chambers's  case  because  his  narrowness  of 
means  had  not  permitted  him  to  pursue  the  study 
of  Grecian  architecture  with  the  same  energy 
he  had  devoted  to  Palladio  and  the  neo-Classics. 


Chambers  the  Architect  221 

Something  of  the  same  feeling  probably  lay  at 
the  root  of  the  purpose  prompting  what,  if  it  be 
not  his  most  notable  literary  effort,  was  certainly 
the  most  discussed — the  'Dissertation  on  Oriental 
Gardening,'  1772.  Whether  this  originated  in  a 
genuine  antipathy  to  the  landscapists  in  horti- 
culture, asrepresented  in  Mason's'English  Garden,' 
of  which  the  first  part  appeared  in  the  same  year; 
or  whether  it  arose  from  dissatisfaction  at  Lord 
Clive's  preference  for  '  Capability  Brown '  as  the 
architect  of  his  Esher  Palace;^  or  whether,  finally, 
its  oblique  intention  was  to  wean  George  III  from 
handing  over  his  pleasure  grounds  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  the  new  school,  who  (as  Walpole  said) 
*had  leaped  the  fence'  to  discover  that  Nature 
was  already  a  garden — it  is  plain  that  the  'Dissert- 
ation '  was  dead  against  the  theories  which,  in  its 
own  words,  '  had  scarcely  left  an  acre  of  shade, 
nor  three  trees  growing  in  a  line,  from  the  Land's 
End  to  the  Tweed.'  For  all  this,  Chambers 
proposed  to  substitute  the  perplexed  incongruities 

^  '  It  is  written  in  wild  revenge  against  Brown,'  says 
Walpole  to  Mason.  The  words  of  the  '  Dissertation  '  are: 
'The  Art  of  Gardening  in  this  island  is  abandoned  to  kit- 
chen gardeners,  well  skilled  in  the  culture  of  sallads,  but 
little  acquainted  with  the  principles  of  Ornamental  Garden- 
ing.' (p.  iii.)  Brown  was  said  to  have  begun  as  a  kitchen 
gardener. 


222  Chambers  the  Architect 

of  Pekin,  or  (as  one  critic  puts  it)  'the  unmeaning 
falbalas  of  Chinese  chequer-work.'  It  does  not 
appear  that  the  scheme  suggested,  though  it 
emanated  from  His  Majesty's  Controller-General 
of  Works,  found  much  favour;  and  its  only 
practical  result  was  to  bring  about  certain  modifi- 
cations in  the  fashion  of  railings  and  garden-seats. 
But  those  whom  Chambers  had  indirectly  assailed 
would  not  willingly  let  him  die;  and  the  'Dissert- 
ation' was  followed  a  year  later  by  what  is  gener- 
ally known  as  the  'Heroic  Epistle  to  Sir  William 
Chambers,  Knt.,'  such  having  become  his  dignity, 
since,  in  i  771,  he  had  been  invested  by  the  King 
of  Sweden  with  the  Order  of  the  Polar  Star,'  in 
recognition  of  a  series  of  carefully  finished  draw- 
ings of  Kew  Gardens  which  he  had  prepared  for 
that  monarch. 

The  'Heroic  Epistle'  is  an  unusually  neat  piece 
of  work,  although  at  the  present  moment  of  time 
its  allusions  have  grown  remote,  and  to  modern 
ears  its  'solemn  irony '  is  less  keen.  The  satirist, 
of  course,  professes  to  be  on  the  side  of  Chambers, 
'  Whose  orb  collects  in  one  refulgent  view.  The 
scatter'd  glories  of  Chinese  Virtu.'  '  O  let  the 
Muse,'  he  cries: 

^  He  'was  allowed  by  George  III  to  assume  the  title 
and  style  of  a  knight.'    ('  D.N.B.') 


Chambers  the  Architect  223 

O  let  the  Muse  attend  thy  march  sublime, 
And,  with  thy  prose,  caparison  her  rhyme; 
Teach  her,  like  thee,  to  gild  her  splendid  song, 
^  With  scenes  of  Yven-Ming,  and  sayings  of  Li-Tsong; 
Like   thee  to  leap  Dame  Nature's  simple  fence; 
Leap  each  Ha  Ha  of  truth  and  common  sense; 
And  proudly  rising  in  her  bold  career, 
Demand  attention  from  the  gracious  ear 
Of  Him,  whom  we  and  all  the  world  admit, 
Patron  supreme  of  science,  taste,  and  wit. 

In  support  of  the  last  line,  some  of  those  *who 
breathe  the  sweets'  of  his  Majesty's  'Saturnian 
reign  '  are  invoked  : 

Witness  ye  Hills,  ye  Johnsons,  Scots,  Shebbeares, 
Hark  to  my  call,  for  some  of  you  have  eais — 

a  transparent  reference  to  the  fact  that  the  last- 
named  personage,  having  stood  nominally  in  the 
pillory'  for  sedition  under   George  II  had  (like 

^  Although,  in  a  special  address  to  Dr.  Shebbeare,  the 
writer  of  the  '  Heroic  Epistle'  refers  to  the  'tattered  frag- 
ment '  of  that  worthy's  ear,  Shebbeare  seems  to  have  escaped 
the  extreme  penalty  of  the  pillory,  and  on  the  whole  to  have 
had  a  by-no-means  mauuaise  heurc  in  the  Charing  Cross 
*  state-machine.'  By  favour  of  a  friendly  Under  Sheriff,  he 
was  brought  to  the  spot  in  a  city  coach,  and  permitted  to 
sit  instead  of  stand  his  sentence,  while  a  sedan-chairman, 
masquerading  for  the  nonce  in  livery,  held  an  umbrella  over 
his  head.  He  had  boasted  that  he  would  write  himself  into 
a  pillory  or  a  pension.    He  achieved  both  ambitions. 


224  Chambers  the  Architect 

Johnson)  been  pensioned  by  George  III.  Hume, 
characterized  as  'the  fattest  Hog  of  Epicurus'  sty' 
— an  application  of  Horace  which  has  found  its 
way  into  the  dictionaries  of  quotations,  Home  of 
*  Douglas'  fame, '  Ossian'  Macpherson,  and  even 
the  shades  of  Mallet  and  *  candid  Smollet' — all 
North  Britons  be  it  observed! — are  also  summoned 
to  render  testimony.  The  scanty  gamut  of  Nature 
— or  rather  Nature  according  to  the  designs  of 
William  Kent — is  thus  defined  to  suit  the  prose 
and  creed  of  Chambers : 

Ring  her  changes  round, 
Her  three  flat  notes  are  water,  plants,  and  ground; 
Prolong  the  peal,  yet  spite  of  all  your  clatter. 
The  tedious  chime  is  still  ground,  plants,  and  water. 
So,  when  some  John  his  dull  invention  racks, 
To  rival  Boodle's  dinners,  or  Almack's, 
Three  uncouth  legs  of  mutton  shock  our  eyes, 
Three  roasted  geese,  three  butter'd  apple-pies.^ 


1  These  particulars  are  closely  studied  from  Chambers 
himself.  '  Plants,  ground,  and  nvater,  he  had  said,  quoting 
the  Chinese, 'are  her  [Nature's]  only  productions.'  .  .  .  'Our 
larger  works  are  only  a  repetition  of  the  small  ones;  more 
green  fields,  more  shrubberies,  more  serpentine  walks,  and 
more  temples;  like  the  honest  bachelor's  feast,  which  con- 
sisted in  nothing  but  a  multiplication  of  his  own  dinner, 
three  legs  of  mutton  andturneps,  three  roasted  geese  and  three 
buttered  apple-pies.''  ('  Preface  '  pp.  vi-vii.,  and  p.  1 6.  To  the 


Chambers  the  Architect  225 

All  these  things,  which  '  untutor'd  Brown  '  was 
substituting  at  Richmond  Lodge  for  Merlin's 
Cave  with  its  wax  figures  (by  Mrs,  Salmon  of 
Fleet  Street),  and  the  Hermitage,  and  the  other 
'  sweet  designs '  of  the  late  Queen  Caroline  and 
her  Yeoman  of  the  Guard,  Stephen  Duck,  Cham- 
bers is  exhorted  to  counteract  and  neutralize  by 
the  prolific  conceptions  of  Oriental  ingenuity: 

Haste,  bid  yon  livelong  Terras  re-ascend, 
Replace  each  vista,  straighten  every  bend; 
Shut  out  the  Thames;  shall  that  ignoble  thing 
Approach  the  presence  of  great  Ocean's  King? 
No  !   let  Barbaric  glories  feast  his  eyes, 
August  Pagodas  round  his  palace  rise, 
And  finished  Richmond  open  to  his  view, 
'  A  work  to  wonder  at,  perhaps  a  Kew.'  ^ 

Among  the  '  Barbaric  glories  '  were  to  figure  the 
snakes,  cats,  parrots,  baboons  and  African  giants 
of  the  Asiatic  gardens  (not  forgetting  Queen 
Charlotte's  elephant  and  zebra  from  St.  James's 
Park),  while,  for  the  greater  heightening  of  the 
'  groves  of  horror  and  affright,'  powder-mills  from 
Hounslow,  where  there  had  been  a  recent  explo- 

Second  Edition  of  1 772,  from  which  the  above  quotations  are 
taken,  is  added  'an  Explanatory  Discourse,  by  Tan  Chet- 
qua  of  Quang-chew-fu,  Gent.') 

^  '  A  Work  to  wonder  at— perhaps  a  Stowe.' — Pope's 
*  Moral  Essays,'  iv,  70. 

Q 


226  Chambers  the  Architect 

sion,  and  gibbets  from  Bagshot  were  to  be  added, 
from  which  latter  *the  minor  plunderers  of  the 
age' — the  Rigbys,  Bradshaws  and  the  like—were 
'to  kick  the  air' in  straw-stufFed  effigy.  Then 
follows  the  mimic  city,  the  urbs  in  rure  of  the 
Pekin  paradise,  with  all  its  humours,  at  which 
'The  Maids  of  Honour  cry  Te!  He! '  and  even 
Miss  Burney's  '  Cerbera,'  the  not-easily-pleased 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Juliana  Schwellenbergen,  is  stirred 
to  unwonted  rapture.  But  enough  of  quotation. 
Who  wrote  the  'Heroic  Epistle'?  The  ques- 
tion was  long  debated.  That  it  was  successively 
attributed  to  Mason,  to  Walpole,  to  Hayley,  to 
Anstey,  shows  that  from  the  outset  it  was  con- 
sidered worthy  of  some  '  eminent  hand.'  Gradu- 
ally speculation  centred  upon  Mason  and  Walpole. 
Walpole — thought  Thomas  Warton — might  have 
written  it;  but  it  must  have  been  'buckram'd' 
by  Mason.  So  reports  Boswell.  But  it  is  doubtful 
if  Walpole  did  more  than  give  hints.  The  ethics 
of  anonymity  are  peculiar;  but  they  scarcely  cover 
his  solemn  declaration  on  his  honour  to  Lady 
Ossory  that  the  poem  was  not  his.'  Moreover, 
in  writing  to  Mason  a  little  later  he  implies 
plainly  that  it  is  Mason's.  He  exhorts  him  to 
cultivate  his  newly  found  vein;  he  refers  in  set 
*  Toynbee's  'Walpole's  Letters,' vlii  (1904),  254. 


Chambers  the  Architect  227 

phrase  to  his  (Mason's)  choosing  '  to  remain  un- 
known for  author  of  the  "Epistle,"'  and  he  winds 
up  with  jubilant  allusion  to  the  popular  quotations 
with  which  it  has  furnished  the  Town.  This 
letter,  of  course,  was  not  known  to  those  of  his 
contemporaries  who  discussed  the  question;' 
while  the  publisher,  Almon  of  Piccadilly,  if  he 
was  aware  of  the  facts,  kept  his  own  counsel. 
But  in  a  reprint  which  he  edited  in  1805,  he 
testifies  to  the  extraordinary  popularity  of  the 
piece,  only  rivalled  in  this  respect,  he  declared, 
by  Gray's  '  Elegy.'  ^  From  Boswell  we  learn  that 
*such  was  Johnson's  candid  relish  of  its  merit 
that  [notwithstanding  its  stroke  at  himself]  he 
allowed  Goldsmith  ...  to  read  it  to  him  from 
beginning  to  end,  and  did  not  refuse  his  praise  to 
its  execution.'  George  III  was  scarcely  so  mag- 
nanimous. Commencing  the  '  Epistle  '  aloud  to 
Chambers,  not  without  a  certain  anticipatory 
delight  (for  even  monarchs  are  human !)  in  its 
expected  trouncing  of  his  Controller  General  of 

'  '  The  papers  of  the  late  Lord  Orford  (Horace  Walpole) 
may  possibly  throw  some  light  on  this  subject '  (Note,  dated 
March  1798,  to  the  '  Pursuits  of  Literature,'  tenth  edition, 

17995  P-  54). 

^  The  above  quotations  are  from  the  thirteenth  edition 
of  1776. 


228  Chambers  the  Architect 

Works,  his  Majesty  found  himself  so  disrespect- 
fully handled  that  he  flung  down  the  book  in  a 
fume — and  'that  day  read  no  more.'  But  it  is  by 
no  means  impossible  that  to  the  couplet — 

Who  of  three  realms  shall  condescend  to  know 
No  more  than  he  can  spy  from  Windsor's  brow, 

is  to  be  attributed  the  subsequent  visit  of  *  great 
Ocean's  King '  to  the  Fleet  at  Spithead,  in  order, 
as  the  same  remorseless  satirist  put  it,  to 

see,  as  other  folks  have  seen, 
That  ships  have  anchors,  and  that  seas  are  green  .  .  . 
And  then  sail  back,  amid  the  cannons'  roar, 
As  safe,  as  sage,  as  when  he  left  the  shore. 

The  'Heroic  Epistle'  was  followed  by  a 'Post- 
script,' whence  the  last-quoted  lines  are  borrowed, 
in  which  a  promise,  never  performed,  was  made 
of  a  further  political  satire;  and  it  was  also  an- 
swered by  a  '  Familiar  Epistle  to  the  Author  of 
the  Heroic  Epistle,'  said  to  have  been  'an  adequate 
retort.'  The  'Postscript'  had  considerable  success ; 
but  makes  little  reference  to  Chambers ;  and  the 
'Familiar  Epistle'  must  now  have  lost  its  sting.  Its 
author,  if  Chambers  were  the  author,  affected  to 
treat  the  whole  matter  philosophically,  consoling 
himself  by  the  fact  that  the  attack  had  stimulated 
the  sale  of  the  peccant  '  Dissertation '  which,  by 


Chambers  the  Architect  229 

the  way,  in  spite  of  Pere  Attiret,  has  been  declared 
by  later  Chinese  travellers  to  have  been  largely 
a  work  of  imagination.'  By  this  date  he  had 
moved  from  Russell  Street,  his  first  home,  and 
after  living  some  time  in  Poland  Street,  from 
which  he  put  forth  the  Kew  book,  had  built 
himself  a  house  at  No.  53  Berners  Street,  now 
occupied  by  the  Royal  Medical  and  Chirurgical 
Society.  He  had  also  an  Italian  villa  at  Whitton 
Place,  near  Hounslow,  in  the  grounds  of  which, 
in  honour  of  the  king's  physician,  Dr.  Francis 
Willis,  he  erected  a  Temple  of  iEsculapiusj  and 
he  enjoyed  besides,  from  his  official  position, 
apartments  at  Hampton  Court.  The  'Dissertation' 

^  According  to  the  '  European  Magazine '  for  1 79  3,  vol. 
24,  p.  1 8  2,  Chambers  bound  both  works  together,  and  placed 
them  in  his  library  at  Whitton.  Sending  a  copy  of  his  book 
to  Voltaire  in  July  1772,  he  had  spoken  of  it  as  containing  *  a 
great  deal  of  nonsense,'  the  view  with  which  it  was  published 
(that  is, — the  amendment  of  the  prevailing  taste  in  garden- 
ing), and  '  two  very  pretty  prints  engraved  by  the  celebrated 
Bartolozzi'  being  its  only  recommendations.  The  old  man 
replied  sympathetically.  He  isalready  insensibly  Chambers's 
disciple.  '  J'ai  de  tout  dans  mes  jardins,  parterres,  petite  piece 
d'eau,  promenades,  regulicres,  bois  trcs  irreguliers,  vallons, 
pres,  vignes,  potagers  avec  des  murs  de  partage  couverts, 
d'arbres  fruitiers  du  peigne  et  du  sauvage,  le  tout  en  petit  et 
fort  eloigne  de  votre  magnificence.  Un  Prince  d'AUemagne 
se  ruineroit  en  voulant  etre  votre  ecolier.' 


230  Chambers  the  Architect 

seems  to  have  been  his  last  deviation  into  litera- 
ture ;  and  though  there  are  indications  that  at  one 
time  he  proposed  to  lecture  upon  Architecture  at 
the  Royal  Academy,  there  is  no  record  that  he 
ever  did  so.  Of  his  different  professional  under- 
takings the  account  is  scattered.  Reference  has 
already  been  made  to  his  w^ork  for  the  Earl  of 
Bessborough  at  Roehampton,  for  Lord  Charle- 
mont  at  Dublin  and  Clontarf  (Marino),  for  Lord 
Pembroke  at  Wilton,  and  to  his  unaccepted  plans 
for  Lord  Clive's  palatial  residence  at  Esher.  He 
also  built  a  superb  dwelling-place  for  Lord  Aber- 
corn  at  Duddingston  near  Edinburgh;  and  he 
was  the  architect  of  Earl  Gower's  mansion  at 
Whitehall,'  and  of  Melbourne  House  (Albany) 
in  Piccadilly.  One  of  his  designs  was  a  beautiful 
circular  church  for  Marylebone,  with  a  Doric 
dome  and  portico,  which,  although  the  vestry- 
declined  it  in  favour  of  that  sent  in  by  his  pupil 
and  biographer,  Thomas  Hardwick,  was  never- 
theless greatly  commended  as  a  work  of  art.  We 
hear  also  of  Gothic  restorations  at  Milton  Abbey 
and  additions  at  Blenheim,  and  of  a  successful 
market-place  at  Woodstock.  But  the  work  which 

1  The  site  of '  Carrington  House,'  as  it  was  latterly  called, 
was  at  the  corner  of  Horse  Guards  Avenue.  It  is  now 
covered  by  the  new  War  Office. 


Chambers  the  Architect  231 

formed  the  chief  occupation  of  the  latter  years  of 
Chambers's  life  was  the  construction  of  the  group 
of  public  buildings  which,  when,  under  an  Act  of 
15  George  III,  the  Queen's  Palace  was  transferred 
to  Buckingham  House,  took  the  place  of  old 
Somerset  House  in  the  Strand.  Plans  of  an  un- 
pretentious character  had  been  provisionally  pre- 
pared by  William  Robinson,  then  Secretary  to  the 
Board  of  Works.  At  this  juncture  it  was  forcibly 
urged  by  Burke  and  others  that,  for  the  proper 
accommodation  of  the  important  institutions  and 
departments  concerned,  something  more  ambitious 
was  needed;  and  that  it  would  be  well  to  make 
so  extensive  an  undertaking  '  an  object  of  national 
splendour  as  well  as  of  official  convenience.'  In 
October  1775  Robinson  died.  By  the  King's 
desire.  Chambers  succeeded  him;  and  not  un- 
naturally discarded  his  predecessor's  modified  but 
unfinished  designs  for  new  ones  of  his  own.'  His 
scheme,  v/hich  included  the  whole  of  the  area  now 
occupied  by  Somerset  House  and  King's  College, 
though  somewhat  varied  as  time  went  on  for  lack 
of  funds,  was  eventually  approved.  His  salary  was 
fixed  at  ;^2000  a  year;    and,  in   1776,  the  first 

^  Baretti's  '  Guide  through  the  Royal  Academy,'  as 
quoted  by  Mr.  A.  Abrahams  in  '  Notes  and  Queries'  for 
9th  July  1910.    Baretti  was  well  known  to  Chambers. 


232  Chambers  the  Architect 

stone  of  what  Fergusson  styles  'the  greatest  archi- 
tectural work  of  the  reign  of  George  III '  was 
duly  laid. 

Those  who  are  curious  in  these  things  may  still 
inspect,  at  the  Soane  Museum  in  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields,  the  numerous  plans,  drawings,  and  sketches 
of  details  which  Chambers  prepared  for  his  com- 
plicated and  exacting  task.  The  differing  needs  of 
the  numerous  buildings  which  made  up  the  whole ; 
the  perpetual  alterations  involved  in  adapting 
the  separate  structures  to  the  conditions  of  a  re- 
stricted site,  and  the  unceasing  harassment  of  that 
irresponsible  criticism  which  beats  so  fiercely  upon 
public  works  in  progress  (and  even  after  comple- 
tion!)— these  things  taxed  the  ingenuity  and  the 
endurance  of  the  architect  to  the  utmost;  while  it 
took  all  the  sympathy  and  encouragement  of  such 
friends  as  Goldsmith,  Burke,  Johnson  and  Garrick 
to  prevent  any  serious  interruption  of  his  labours. 
One  of  the  latest  and  most  unscrupulous  of  his 
assailants  was  a  failed  engraver  and  gutter  satirist 
named  John  Williams,  who,  under  the  style  of 
*  Anthony  Pasquin,'  issued  an  exceedingly  offen- 
sive attack  both  on  Chambers  and  his  work.  It 
has  received  far  more  attention  than  it  deserves, 
and  would  probably  have  been  wholly  forgotten 
had  it  not  been  reprinted  as  a  note  in  Gwilt's  edition 


Chambers  the  Architect  ^33 

of  the  *  Civil  Architecture.'  There  is  a  pretentious 
rumble  in  this  precious  screed  of  polysyllables  such 
as  'putridinous'  and  'lapidific,'  and  a  certain  showy 
shuffling  of  art-terms;  but  the  whole  is  simply  a 
malignant  and  blundering  diatribe  against  the 
powers  who  had  substituted  a  new  building  for  an 
old.  When,  in  1823,  it  was  reproduced  in  that 
interesting  and  short-lived  miscellany,  the  *  Somer- 
set House  Gazette,^  it  was  fortunate  enough  to 
elicit  a  belated  remonstrance  from  another  of 
Chambers's  editors,  Papworth  the  architect,  who 
triumphantly  vindicated  the  reputation  of  Cham- 
bers, not  only  by  pointing  out  the  peculiar  difficul- 
ties with  which  he  was  confronted  in  obtaining 
security  of  foundation,  and  by  dwelling  on  the  skill 
with  which  he  had  conciliated  the  conflicting  re- 
quirements of  the  occupants,^  but  by  insisting  that, 
all  these  things  notwithstanding,  the  vast  edifice 
had  not  suffered  in  its  dignified  simplicity,  and  that 
both  in  construction  and  decoration,  it  fairly  com- 
pared with  any  other  public  erection  in  the  capital. 
And  it  is  perhaps  superfluous  to  add  that,  after 
such  an  eulogium,  Papworth  did  not  fail  to  credit 
Chambers  with  a  liberal  measure  of  that  combina- 

'  Nos.  viii  and  x,  pp.  114  and  146  of  vol.  i. 
^  The  sole  caviller  is  reported  to  have  been  the  cook  at 
the  Victualling  Office,  who  wanted  more  larder  room. 


234  Chambers  the  Architect 

tion  of  gifts,  mathematical,  mechanical,  chemical 
and  artistic,  which  go  to  the  making  of  a  Wren 
or  a  Palladio. 

Unanimity  in  artcriticism  is  as  rare  asunanimity 
in  matters  dramatic;  and  although  two-thirds  of 
the  above  verdict  are  incontrovertible,  critics  of 
far  different  calibre  to  the  '  polecat '  Pasquin  (the 
natural  history  is  Macaulay's)  have  not  always  en- 
dorsed Papworth's  conclusions  as  to  the  general 
merits  of  the  design.  That  accomplished  observer, 
M.  Taine,  for  example,  who  travelled  in  Italy  and 
should  have  been  familiar  with  Chambers's  models, 
seems  to  have  retained  an  exceedingly  unfavour- 
able impression  of  Somerset  House — an  impression 
which  loses  nothing  under  his  incisive  and  un- 
renderable  vocabulary.  It  is  a  '  massive  et  pesante 
architecture  dont  tous  les  creux  sont  passes  a 
I'encre ' — he  says.  He  speaks  of  its  '  portiques  bar- 
bouilles  de  suie,'  and  its  Mongues  rang^es  de 
fenetres  closes:  que  peuvent-ils  faire  dans  ces  cata- 
combes  ?'...'  Mais  ce  qui  afflige  le  plus  les  yeux, 
ce  sont  les  colonnades,  peristyles,  ornements  grecs, 
moulures  et  guirlandes  des  maisons,  toutes  lessivees 
a  la  suie;  pauvre  architecture  antique,  que  vient- 
elle  faire  en  pareil  climat? '  ^  The  last  objection 
has  been  urged  before.    He  is  equally  unkind  to 

^  'Notes  sur  I'Angleterre,'  2nd  ed.  1872,  pp.  lo-ii. 


Chambers  the  A  rchitect  235 

the  '  Bristish  Museum  '  and  Saint  Paul's.  But  he 
made  his  inspection  on  a  wet  and  foggy  October 
day;  and  it  may  be  was  suffering  from  some  ad- 
venturous meal  akin  to  the  steak  and  '  bottattoes ' 
which,  at  Oxford,  an  unintelligent  waiter  trans- 
lated into  steak  and  '  buttered  toast.'  Such  a 
diet  might  well  dispose  a  critic  to  see  everything 
en  noirl  In  London  a  certain  amount  of  sooty 
accretion  must,  of  course,  be  granted ;  though,  as 
others  have  observed,  there  are  moments  when 
Somerset  House  glistens  gladly  in  the  noonday  sun 
— moments  of  moonlight,  too,  which  blanch  and 
clarify  its  classic  outlines,  and  when  even  its  dusky 
clefts  and  corners  serve  to  emphasize  and  accentu- 
ate the  white  of  its  more  fortunate  spaces.  But  one 
could  prolong  to  the  verge  of  tedium  the  too  fre- 
quently contradictory  comments  of  experts,  who 
assail  this  or  that  detail  of  the  whole.  For  the  un- 
prejudiced outsider,  it  is  enough  to  rejoice  in  the 
beauty  of  the  vestibule  and  famous  river-front,  the 
spread  of  the  quadrangle,  the  diversity  and  pro- 
priety of  the  decorations,  without  inquiring  too 
curiously — in  the  spirit  of  the  sagacious  M.  Jour- 
dain — whether  the  original  conception  followed 
the  strictest  order  of  academic  evolution,  or  ade- 
quately interprets  the  true  inwardness  ofan  aesthetic 
personality.  For  him  it  suffices  that  Somerset  House 


2^6  Chambers  the  A  rchitect 

remains  '  the  greatest  architectural  woric  of  the 
reign  of  George  III.'  And  it  may  be  added  that 
those  who — undeterred  by  the  discoloration  of  the 
French  critic's  '  soot-washes  ' — really  desire  to 
study  the  sculpture  of  the  last  quarter  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  cannot  do  better  than  spend  an 
hour  among  the  masks  and  river-gods  of  Bacon, 
and  Wilton,  and  Joseph  Nollekens. 

From  first  to  last,  it  is  estimated  that  Somerset 
House  must  have  cost  about  ^500,000.  It  was  still 
unfinished  when  its  designer  died ;  and  supplemen- 
tary decorative  work  continued  to  be  done  on  the 
internal  north  facade  down  to  181 9,  while  some 
of  the  additions  to  the  group  of  buildings  are  of  a 
yet  later  date.  The  superintending  of  its  construc- 
tionconstituted  the  main  occupation  ofChambers's 
closing  years.  At  the  time  of  his  decease  in  1796, 
he  had  moved  from  Berners  Street  to  a  small  house 
in  Norton  (nowBolsover)  Street,  Mary lebone,  once 
a  favoured  resort  of  artists,  since  Wilson,  Wilkie 
and  Turner  all  resided  there.  He  was  buried  in 
Poets'  Corner,  Westminster  Abbey.  A  tactful  em- 
ployer, and  a  friendly,  cheerful,  amenable  man  of 
the  world,  he  was  on  familiar  terms  with  many 
of  his  more  illustrious  contemporaries.  Johnson, 
Reynolds,  Goldsmith,  Garrick,  Dr.  Burney,  Caleb 
Whitefoord,  and  other  notabilities,  were  all  of  his 


Chambers  tlie  Architect  237 

circle;  and  he  was  a  member  of  a  professional  club 
known  as  the  Architects'  Society,  which  met  at 
the  rendezvous  of  the  Dilettanti — the  Thatched 
House  Tavern  in  St.  James's  Street.  But  notwith- 
standingthe  eminence  of  his  associates, and  his  own 
popularity,  few  anecdotes  seem  to  have  clustered 
about  his  memory.  His  letters  to  Charlemont,  pre- 
occupied as  already  stated  with  business  details,  are 
otherwise  rather  colourless,  and  little  mention  of 
him  is  made  in  Boswell's  storehouse  of  gossip.  But 
there  is  a  solitary  incident  in  the  '  European  Maga- 
zine'^ which  is  worth  recalling,  as  it  relates  to 
Goldsmith,  and  actually  took  place  at  Chambers's 
house  in  Berners  Street.  Seated  at  whist  with  his 
host.  Lady  Chambers, and  Baretti,the  poet  suddenly 
started,  threw  down  his  hand,  and  rushed  out  of 
the  room.  Returning  speedily,  he  was  questioned 
as  to  his  erratic  behaviour.  '  I'll  tell  you,'  he  re- 
plied; 'as  I  was  deeply  engaged,  and  pondering 
over  my  cards,  my  attention  was  attracted  from 
them  by  the  voice  of  a  female  in  the  street,  who 
was  singing  and  sobbing  at  the  same  time :  so  I 
flew  down  to  relieve  her  distress;  for  I  could  not 
be  quiet  myself  until  I  had  quieted  her,'  No  one 
had  heard  the  singer  save  the  soft-hearted  author 
of  '  A  City  Night-Piece ' ! 

^  Vol.  Iv  (1809),  P-  443- 


CLERY'S  JOURNAL 

FOR  the  last  few  years  there  has  been  a 
marked  renewal  of  interest  in  the  little  group 
of  royal  personages  who,  having  sought  shelter 
with  the  French  Legislative  Assembly,  were,  on 
the  13th  of  August  1792,  consigned  by  that 
body  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Paris  Commune. 
Much  of  this  reawakened  curiosity  is  no  doubt 
owing  to  the  persistence  of  modern  research 
among  revolutionary  archives,  and  particularly  to 
the  indefatigable  labours  of  M.  G.  Lenotre  in 
connection  with  Marie  Antoinette  and  her  hus- 
band, with  Madame  Royale,  and  with  other  mem- 
bers of  the  party.  Translations  of  M.  Lenotre's 
fast-following  volumes  have  appeared  successively 
in  England ;  and  to  these  again  must  be  attributed 
a  corresponding  and  independent  activity  on  the 
subject  in  this  country.  Within  short  space  we 
have  had  not  only  a  version  of  M.  Lenotre's 
latest  effort,  a  volume  on  the  Duchesse  d'Angou- 
leme  (Madame  Royale),  but  an  exceedingly  lucid 
and  readable  account  of  '  The  Little  Dauphin ' 

238 


CUry's  Journal  239 

(Louis  XVII)  by  Miss  Catharine  Welch,  and  an 
excellently  illustrated  monograph,  by  Miss  B.  C, 
Hardy,  on  the  Princesse  de  Lamballe.  In  this 
abundance  of  new  and  newly  published  material 
we  may  perhaps  be  pardoned  if,  acting  on  a  well- 
worn  precept,  we  revert  to  an  elder  classic  in  this 
kind,  the  once  famous — and  deservedly  famous — 
'Journal  of  Occurrences  at  the  Temple,  during 
the  Confinement  of  Louis  XVI,  King  of  France, 
by  M.  Cl^ry,  the  King's  Valet-de-Chambre.' 
There  is  the  better  justification  for  taking  this 
course,  in  that  many  of  the  recent  investigators 
not  only  make  mention  of  Clary's  record,  but 
materially  confirm  and  complete  what,  since  the 
date  of  its  appearance,  has  always  been  regarded 
as  a  most  trustworthy  historical  document,  eman- 
ating from  an  eye-witness  who  recounts  only 
what  he  saw,  and,  in  his  own  modest  words,  had 
'  neither  the  talent  nor  the  pretension  to  compose 
Memoirs.' 

Concerning  its  author,  Jean-Baptiste  Cant- 
Hanet,  otherwise  Cl^ry,  not  much,  previous  to 
the  '  Occurrences '  which  he  chronicles,  can  or 
need  be  said;  but  of  his  subsequent  doings  we 
may  perhaps  later  add  a  few  little-known  par- 
ticulars. Born  in  May  1759,  at  Jardy,  in  the 
Park  of  Versailles,  he  was  at  the  period  of  the 


240  Clery's  Journal 

'  Journal,'  a  married  man,  holding  the  position  of 
valet  de  chambre  to  the  Prince  Royal,  or  Dauphin, 
afterwards  Louis  XVIL  On  the  memorable  loth 
of  August,  when  the  mob  from  the  faubourgs 
attacked  the  Tuileries,  and  the  royal  family  had 
quitted  that  palace  for  the  Legislative  Assembly 
then  sitting  in  the  neighbouring  riding  school, 
Clery  contrived  to  escape  by  jumping  from  a 
window ;  and  eventually  made  his  way  over  the 
corpse-strewn  Pont  Louis  Seize,  and  through  an 
unguarded  breach  in  the  city  walls,  to  Versailles. 
Here  he  soon  learned  that  Potion,  the  Mayor  of 
Paris  and  head  of  the  newly  constituted  revolu- 
tionary Commune,  was  casting  about  for  persons 
to  attend  the  prisoners  in  the  Temple,  and  he 
at  once  volunteered  his  services.  With  the  King's 
concurrence  he  was  accepted  by  the  municipal 
authorities;  and  on  26th  August,  when  the  royal 
family  had  already  been  thirteen  days  in  the  lesser 
Tower,  where — pending  repairs  to  the  larger 
structure  upon  which  it  abutted  and  the  build- 
ing of  a  high  enclosing  wall — they  were  at  first 
housed,'  he  entered  upon  his  duties.  At  this  date 
the  prisoners  consisted  of  Louis  XVI  and  Marie 
Antoinette,  their  daughter,  Madame  Royale, 
the  little  Dauphin,  a  boy  of  seven,  the  King's 
'  See  Appendix  A. 


Clery's  Journal  24 1 

sister,  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  M.  Hue,  the 
King's  valet,  a  great  favourite  w^ith  the  family, 
who,  however,  was  speedily  withdrawn  from  his 
post  by  the  suspicious  Commune.  The  Dauphin's 
governess,  Mme.  de  Tourzel,  and  the  hapless 
Princesse  de  Lamballe,  who,  in  her  capacity  of 
Superintendent  of  the  Queen's  household,  origin- 
ally accompanied  the  fugitives  from  the  Tuileries, 
had  already,  before  Clery's  arrival,  been  trans- 
ferred to  the  prison  of  La  Force  at  the  end  of 
the  Rue  du  Roi  de  Sicile. 

As  may  be  anticipated,  it  is  chiefly  with  those 
episodes  of  Clery's  story  which  can  be  supported 
or  supplemented  by  later  testimonies  that  we  are 
here  concerned ;  and  we  do  not  profess  to  follow 
that  well-known  narrative  in  detail.  But,  as  it 
happens,  the  tragedy  of  the  Princesse  de  Lamballe 
comes  among  the  first  of  Clary's  experiences,  as 
the  September  massacres  in  the  prisons  occurred 
only  two  or  three  days  after  he  had  taken  up  his 
abode  at  the  Temple.  At  one  o'clock  on  the  3rd  the 
royal  family,  disturbed  by  the  ceaseless  beating  of 
drums  and  the  cries  of  the  populace,  had  hurriedly 
assembled  in  the  Queen's  apartment.  Clery 
meanwhile  went  down  to  the  lower  story  to  have 
his  dinner  with, the  two  prison  attendants,  Pierre 
Tison  and  his  wife.    They  were  scarcely  seated 

R 


242  aery's  Journal 

before  a  head  on  the  point  of  a  pike  was  pre- 
sented at  the  window.  It  was  that  of  Madame 
de  Lamballe,  which  some  of  the  mob,  who  had 
succeeded  in  penetrating  the  enclosure  of  the 
Tower,  had  brought  to  exhibit  to  the  Queen. 
*  Though  bleeding,'  says  Clery,  '  [it]  was  not  dis- 
figured, and  her  fine  light  hair,  still  curling,  waved 
round  the  pike.^ 

At  this  ghastly  sight  Tison's  wife  shrieked 
dismally;  and  the  wretches  below,  concluding 
the  voice  was  that  of  the  Queen,  were  heard  to 
laugh  savagely.  Clery,  horrified,  at  once  mounted 
to  the  upper  room,  hoping  that  the  Queen  had 
been  spared  the  sight.  By  this  time,  however,  a 
deputation  of  the  Scptembriseui's  had  arrived  to 
satisfy  themselves  by  personal  inspection  that  the 
royal  family  were  really  in  the  Tower;  and  one 
of  them,  in  answer  to  inquiries,  brutally  told  the 
Queen,  whom  the  officers  of  the  Commune  had 
charitably  kept  back  from  the  window,  that  they 

'  We  quote,  here  and  hereafter,  the  English  version  of 
Clery,  published  in  London  in  1798.  Apparently  Clery 
did  not  know  that,  according  to  a  story  accepted  by 
Berlin,  Lescure,  and  others,  tlie  mob,  fiendishly  determined 
that  the  Queen  should  not  fail  to  recognize  her  friend,  had 
caused  the  head  to  be  washed,  curled,  powdered,  and 
generally  accommodee  by  a  perruquier  in  the  Place  de  la 
Bastille. 


Clefts  Journal  243 

wanted  *•  to  keep  her  from  seeing  de  Lamhalles 
head,  which  had  been  brought  her  that  she  might 
know  how  the  people  avenged  themselves  upon 
their  tyrants.'  At  this  Marie  Antoinette  fainted; 
and  the  King  said  firmly,  'We  are  prepared  for 
everything.  Sir,  but  you  might  have  dispensed  with 
relating  this  horrible  disaster  to  the  Queen.'  Be- 
tween the  blinds  (*a  travers  les  stores')  Clery 
could  still  see  the  swaying  trophy  which  the 
bearer,  who  had  clambered  on  the  debris  of  some 
demolished  buildings,  was  struggling  to  raise  to 
the  upper  windows;  and  he  could  also  clearly 
distinguish  the  voice  of  one  of  the  municipal 
officers  on  duty,  who,  by  an  artful  appeal  to  the 
vanity  of  his  audience,  was  endeavouring  to  dis- 
suade the  main  body  of  the  mob  from  forcing  an 
entrance.  '  The  head  of  Antoinette^  C16ry  heard 
him  say,  'does  not  belong  to  you;  the  Depart- 
ments have  their  respective  rights  to  it :  France 
has  confided  these  great  culprits  to  the  care  of  the 
City  of  Paris;  and  it  is  your  part  to  assist  in 
securing  them,  until  the  national  justice  takes 
vengeance  for  the  people.'  After  an  hour  of 
similar  rodomontade,  they  were  induced  to  retire; 
and  Louis  XVI,  through  Clery,  was  thoughtfully 
mulcted  in  the  sum  of  five  and  forty  sous  for  a 
tri-colcured  sash  which,  as  a  sacred  and  inviolable 


244  Clery's  Journal 

symbol,  had   been  hung  as  a  barrier  across  the 
principal  gate. 

The  above  is  Clery's  narrative  from  within; 
the  story  from  w^ithout  is  supplied  by  the  municipal 
officer  above  referred  to,  in  a  document  vi^hich 
formed  part  of  the  autographs  of  the  late  Victorien 
Sardou,  and  w^as  printed  for  the  first  time  in  its 
entirety  by  M.  Lenotre.^  Daujon,  as  he  is  rightly 
called  by  Clery — though  he  seems  for  some  years 
to  have  been  confused  with  an  unfrocked  priest 
and  schoolmaster  named  Danjou — was  a  sculptor 
by  profession,  a  commissioner  of  the  Commune, 
and  for  the  nonce  an  acting  member  of  the 
Provisional  Covmcil  of  the  Temple  charged  with 
the  safe  custody  of  the  prisoners.  A  revolutionary 
by  conviction,  he  was  hard  and  unsympathetic, 
but  *  neither  wicked  nor  cruel.'  After  describ- 
ing the  events  which  preceded  Clery's  Lamballe 
episode,  he  relates  how  the  tri-coloured  sash  was 
hung  across  the  main  entrance,  behind  which, 
mounted  on  a  chair, he  awaited  the  Septembriseurs, 
of  whose  approach  and  intentions  the  Temple 
authorities  had  been  forewarned  by  an  orderly. 
At  first  he  made  an  impassioned  appeal  against 

'  *  Last  days  of  Marie  Antoinette,'  by  G.  Lenotre 
(Heinemann,  1907),  translated  by  Mrs.  Rodolph  Stawell, 
pp.  33-58. 


Clery's  Journal  245 

violence,  as  a  result  of  which  a  limited  number  of 
them,  '  bearing  their  spoils,'  were  admitted  into 
the  enclosure,  round  which  they  paraded  triumph- 
antly, the  municipal  officers  at  their  head.  But 
the  situation  speedily  became  acute,  especially  as 
the  intruders  were  at  once  reinforced  by  the 
workmen  engaged  in  clearing  away  the  houses 
about  the  Tower.  Voices  began  to  clamour  for 
Marie  Antoinette.  She  must  show  herself  at  the 
window;  she  must  be  made  to  kiss  the  head  of 
the  Lamballe.  The  municipal  officers  strove  in 
vain  to  calm  the  tumult,  and  one  of  the  ruffians 
turned  furiously  on  Daujon  with  his  pike.  He 
was  saved  from  sudden  death  only  by  his  presence 
of  mind  and  the  intervention  of  a  bystander,  who 
pointed  out  that  he  was  doing  no  more  than  his 
duty. 

*In  the  meantime'  (Daujon  proceeds)  'two 
commissioners  had  thrown  themselves  in  front 
of  the  first  inner  door  of  the  Tower,  and  prepared 
to  defend  the  approaches  with  devoted  courage; 
whereupon  the  others,  seeing  that  they  could  not 
win  us  over,  broke  into  horrible  imprecations,  pour- 
ing out  the  most  disgusting  obscenities,  mingled 
with  fearful  yells.  This  was  the  final  gust  of  the 
storm,  and  we  waited  for  it  to  blow  over.  Fear- 
ing, however,  lest  the  scene  should  lead  to  some 


246  CUry's  Journal 

climax  worthy  of  the  actors,  I  decided  to  make 
them  another  speech.  But  what  could  I  say? 
How  could  I  find  the  way  to  such  degraded 
hearts?  I  attracted  their  attention  by  gestures; 
they  looked  at  me,  and  listened.  I  praised  their 
courage  and  their  exploits,  and  made  heroes  of 
them ;  then,  seeing  they  were  calming  down,  I 
gradually  mingled  reproach  with  praise.  I  told 
them  the  trophies  they  were  carrying  were  com- 
mon property.  "  By  what  right,"  I  added,  "  do 
you  alone  enjoy  the  fruits  of  your  victory  r  Do 
they  not  belong  to  the  whole  of  Paris?  Night  is 
coming  on.  Do  not  delay,  then,  to  leave  these 
precincts,  which  are  so  much  too  narrow  for  your 
glory.  It  is  in  the  Palais  Royal,  or  the  garden  of 
the  Tuileries,  where  the  sovereignty  of  the  people 
has  been  so  often  trodden  under  foot,  that  you 
should  plant  this  trophy  as  an  everlasting  memorial 
of  the  victory  you  have  just  won."'  This  'ridi- 
culous harangue,'  in  Daujon's  own  words,  must 
have  been  that  of  which  C16ry  overheard  an  im- 
perfect fragment.  It  produced  the  desired  effect 
of  diverting  the  attention  of  the  mob  elsewhere. 
Daujon  confirms  Cl^ry  by  saying  that  the  King 
subsequently  thanked  him  for  his  opportune  inter- 
vention. 'I  shall  never  forget  how  you  risked 
your  life  to  save  ours,'  his  Majesty  said.    And  it 


Clerys  Journal  247 

was  truly  '  risking  his  life.'  '  If  I  had  failed,'  says 
Daujon  in  a  note,  '  I  should  have  seized  the 
sabre  of  a  National  Guard  and  killed  the  first 
man  who  had  dared  to  come  forward.'  In  which 
case  he  would  assuredly  have  been  massacred 
himself. 

There  are  no  more  discrepancies  in  the  above 
narratives  than  might  reasonably  have  been  ex- 
pected from  narrators  writing  at  different  times, 
from  different  points  of  view,  and  relying  on 
memories  coloured  or  modified  by  subsequent 
events.  It  is  but  fair,  however,  to  observe  that 
Daujon  and  Clery  differ  essentially  as  to  the 
behaviour  and  bearing  of  the  King,  whom  Clery 
describes,  here  and  elsewhere,  as  uniformly  re- 
strained, dignified,  and  resigned.  To  Daujon  he 
did  not  so  present  himself.  At  the  outset  of  the 
massacres  he  describes  him  as  '  pale  and  trembling, 
with  his  eyes  swollen  with  tears,'  and  seeming 
*  touched  by  nothing  but  concern  for  his  own 
safety.'  '  Far  from  remembering  that  he  had  been 
a  King,  he  forgot  that  he  was  a  man ;  he  had  all 
the  cowardice  of  a  disarmed  tyrant,  and  all  the 
servility  of  a  convicted  criminal.'  M.  Lenotre 
naturally  finds  this  disquieting  record  a  little 
difficult,  since,  looking  to  the  general  credibility 
of  Daujon's  narrative,  it  is  impossible  to  doubt 


248  Clery's  Journal 

the  good  faith  of  the  picture.  He  points  out, 
nevertheless,  that  the  'moral  collapse  and  un- 
reasoning fear'  it  indicates,  are  incompatible  with 
the  conduct  of  Louis  on  other  occasions;  and  he 
even  builds  upon  it  the  theory  that  his  Majesty 
must  have  habitually  succeeded  in  exercising  more 
self-control  than  he  displayed  in  this  particular 
juncture.  This,  as  it  seems  to  us,  is  to  protest 
too  much.  Daujon,  however  truthful,  was  (where 
'  the  tyrant '  was  concerned)  a  thoroughly  unsym- 
pathetic and  contemptuous  spectator;  and  it  is 
unnecessary,  even  if  his  words  be  accepted  literally, 
to  attribute  the  King's  condition  in  this  instance 
to  more  than  '  a  mere  momentary  weakness '  in 
presence  of  the  unexpected.  The  fortitude  of  the 
man  who,  according  to  Clery  watching  by  his 
bedside  to  the  morning  of  his  execution,  slept  as 
soundly  as  Argyll,  is  not  to  be  discredited  for  a 
passing  crise  nerveuse. 

Of  the  daily  round  of  the  prisoners  in  the  lesser 
Tower  where,  as  already  stated,  they  were  at  first 
confined,  Clery  has  given  a  sufficiently  familiar 
account,  showing  the  methodical  way  in  which 
they  parcelled  out  their  time  in  reading,  recreation, 
needlework,  instructing  the  children,  and  so  forth. 
They  must,  however,  in  addition  to  the  street- 
crier  who,  by  contrivance  of  Mme. Clery, periodic- 


Clary's  Journal  249 

ally  bawled  the  news  outside  the  walls  of  the 
Temple, have  been  fairly  posted  up  by  other  means 
in  the  course  of  events.  Clery,  who  refers  to  these 
things  only  incidentally,  admits  that  much  aid  in 
obtaining  intelligence  was  given  by  Louis-Francois 
Turgy,  a  humble  groom  of  the  kitchen  at  the 
Tuileries,  who,  with  two  companions,  had  man- 
aged to  insinuate  himself  into  the  service  of 
the  Temple.  From  a  narrative  by  Turgy,  first 
given  to  the  world  in  1818,  and  reproduced  by 
M.  Lenotre,  there  would  seem  to  have  been  a 
most  elaborate  and  ingenious  code  of  private 
signals  invented  by  the  Queen  and  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  for  the  discomfiture  of  the  municipal 
officers;  and  this  again  was  supplemented  by 
secret  expedients.  While  their  suspicious  warders 
were  probing  the  rolls,  unfolding  the  napkins, 
testing  the  food,  and  looking  under  the  beds, 
messages  written  in  lemon-juice  or  gall-nut  were 
freely  exchanged  under  their  very  noses,  or  posted 
in  hiding-places  previously  agreed  upon.  '  In  spite 
of  the  vigilance  of  eight  or  ten  persons,  hardly  a 
day  passed'  (says  Turgy)  'during  the  fourteen 
months  that  I  was  in  the  Temple,  without  my  de- 
livering some  notes  or  other  to  the  royal  family, 
either  by  means  of  the  devices  already  mentioned, 
or  while  I  was  giving  them  the  objects  connected 


250  Clery's  Journal 

with  my  duties,  or  receiving  them  from  their 
hands.  Or  else  I  would  put  the  note  in  a  ball  of 
thread  or  cotton,  and  hide  it  in  a  corner  of  a 
cupboard,  or  under  the  marble  table,  or  in  the 
hot-air  holes  of  the  stove,  or  even  in  the  basket 
that  the  sweepings  were  carried  away  in.  A 
movement  of  my  hand  or  eyes  indicated  the  spot 
where  I  had  succeeded  in  hiding  the  ball.  In  this 
way  the  King  and  the  princesses  were  nearly 
always  kept  informed  of  the  progress  of  events.  .  .  . 
Strange  to  say  '  (he  adds  elsewhere)  '  not  one  of 
our  notes  was  ever  discovered !  Every  day  I  thank 
Heaven  for  it.' '  It  is  to  Turgy  that  we  owe  a 
story  which  tends  to  confirm  Clery's  account  of 
the  wanton  insults  inflicted  upon  the  captives  by 
some  of  the  soldiery  and  municipal  officers.  From 
many  of  the  latter,  recruited  as  they  were  from 
all  ranks  of  society,  ill-informed,  ill-educated,  and 
animated  by  an  unreasoning  antipathy  to  their 
unfortunate  charges,  rose-water  civilities  and  polite 
consideration  could  hardly  be  expected.  But 
Turgy's  anecdote  is  of  a  man  who  certainly 
should  have  known  better,  the  '  poet '  Dorat- 
Pal6mezeaux,  Chevalier  de  Cubi^res,  a  member 
of  the  Commune  on  duty  at  the  Temple.  The 
Queen  had  broken  her  comb,  and  begged  Turgy 
'  Lenotre,  pp.  65,  75. 


Clerfs  Journal  251 

to  get  her  a  new  one.  '  Buy  one  of  horn,'  said 
Cubieres  ostentatiously  in  her  hearing;  *  box 
(buis)  is  too  good  for  her ' — a  recommendation 
which  Turgy  silently  disregarded  in  favour  of 
tortoiseshell.  Cl^ry  also  refers  to  the  insolence  of 
Cubieres.  It  is  a  comfort  to  learn  from  M.  Lenotre's 
note  that  this  man,  notwithstanding  his  abject 
odes  to  Marat,  Carrier,  and  Robespierre,  only 
succeeded  in  being  regarded  as  a  coward  and  a 
parasite,  'at  once  (in  Madame  Roland's  words) 
idiotically  conceited  and  servilely  polite';  and 
that  he  put  the  crown  to  his  megalomania  by 
rewriting  the  '  Phedre  '  of  Racine,  and  endeavour- 
ing to  pass  ofF  one  of  his  own  bad  plays  as  a  lost 
tragedy  of  Corneille.  In  this  particular  connection 
a  still  lower  depth  of  turpitude  is  disclosed  by 
Turgy,  who  implies  that  in  the  past  he  had 
received  special  marks  of  favour  from  the  King. 

But  though  there  were  shameless  and  cowardly 
municipal  officers  such  as  Cubieres,  savages  like 
Tison  and  Simon  the  cobbler,  ribald  National 
Guards  who  scrawled  the  masonry  with  obscene 
graffiti  of  Louis,  and  brutal  turnkeys  who  puffed 
their  foul  tobacco  smoke  in  the  very  face  of 
'  Madame  Veto,'  there  were  also  some  (and  more 
than,  from  Cldry's  'Journal,'  one  would  guess) 
who  felt  from  the  first,  or,  if  they  did  not  then, 


252  CUry's  Journal 

soon  came  to  feel,  a  genuine  compassion  for  their 
hapless  charges.  Among  the  latter  was  Francois 
Toulan,  hereafter  to  be  mentioned;  among  the 
former,  Charles  Goret,  a  ci-devant  inspector  of 
market  supplies,  and  apparently  a  man  of  some  in- 
telligence and  education,  whose  '  Testimony  with 
regard  to  the  Confinement  of  Louis  XVI  and 
his  Family  in  the  Temple  Tower,'  first  published 
under  the  Restoration,  M.  Lenotre  includes  in 
his  collection.  From  the  outset  Goret  forebore  to 
address  the  King  as  'Capet' — a  practice  which 
Louis  particularly  disliked;  nor  did  he,  as  many 
did,  obtrusively  wear  his  hat  in  the  royal  presence. 
These  little  distinctions  of  demeanour  were 
promptly  appreciated  by  the  observant  prisoners, 
with  whom  he  was  presently  on  as  familiar  a  foot- 
ing as  was  possible  to  people  who  were  jealously 
spied  upon  through  every  crack  and  keyhole.  Of 
these  relations  there  is  pleasant  evidence  in  the 
very  earliest  of  his  records.  It  fell  to  his  duty  to 
accompany  the  little  party  on  their  daily  airing  in 
the  Temple  enclosure,  a  proceeding,  we  learn 
from  Cl(§ry,  often  made  intolerably  humiliating 
to  the  promenaders  by  the  offensive  bearing  of  the 
bystanders.  But  on  this  occasion  it  was  almost 
idyllic. 

'  As  soon  as  we  were  in  the  shade  the  King 


Clcry's  Journal  253 

and  C16ry,  the  valet  de  chambre,  amused  them- 
selves by  giving  the  young  prince  some  exercise 
with  a  little  ball.  The  Queen  sat  dovi^n  on  a 
bench,  with  the  princesses,  her  daughter  and 
Madame  Elizabeth,  on  her  right  hand.  I  was  on 
the  left.  She  opened  the  conversation  by  pointing 
to  the  Tower,  which  faced  us,  and  asking  me 
what  I  thought  of  it.  "  Alas,  madame,"  I  an- 
swered, "  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  beautiful 
prison !  This  one  reminds  me  of  another  that  I 
saw  when  I  was  young,  the  one  in  which  Gabrielle 
de  Vergyi  was  imprisoned."  "What!"  replied 
the  Queen,  "  you  have  seen  that  other  prison  ?  " 
"Yes,  madame,"  I  answered.  "It  is  a  still  larger 
tower  than  this  one  that  we  are  looking  at,  and  it 
is  situated  at  Couci-le-Chateau,  where  I  lived 
when  I  was  young,"  The  Oueen  immediately 
called  her  husband,  who  joined  us,  and  when  she 
had  told  him  what  I  had  just  said,  the  King  asked 
me  for  various  details  about  the  tower  in  question. 

1  Coucy-le-Chateau  (Aisne),  near  Laon,  is  styled  by 
Augustus  Hare  '  the  finest  old  castle  in  France.'  The 
story  of  the  amours  of  Renaud  or  Raoul  de  Coucy  with 
Gabrielle  de  Vergy — '  la  dame  du  Fayel ' — which  prompted 
Boccaccio's  '  Sigismunda,'  among  other  things,  need  not 
be  retold  here.  It  is  more  pertinent  to  observe  that  this 
great  mediaeval  stronghold  passed  in  1498  to  the  crown  of 
France,  and  that  its  last  lord  was  Philippe  ♦  Egalite.' 


2  54  Clerks  Journal 

I  told  him  what  I  had  noticed  there,  and  he  seemed 
satisfied,  giving  us  at  the  same  time  a  geographical 
description  of  Couci-le-Chateau,  as  though  he 
were  an  expert  in  geography;  and  indeed  it  was 
well  known  that  his  knowledge  of  the  science  was 
profound.' 

M.  Lenotre  gives  us  a  facsimile,  from  the 
Bibliothcque  Nationale,  of  a  sketch  by  a  National 
Guard,  the  architect  Lequcux,  which  enables  us 
in  some  measure  to  realize  this  scene.  It  shows 
us  the  Temple  Tower  from  the  south,  with  the 
little  Tower  to  the  left  of  the  spectator.  To  the 
right  is  the  chestnut  avenue,  affording  the  shade 
of  which  Goret  makes  mention.  In  the  foreground 
are  the  royal  group,  the  attendant  municipal 
officers,  Mathey  the  porter  with  his  keys,  Clery, 
and  Tison  and  his  wife.  To  the  King's  '  pro- 
found '  knowledge  of  geography  there  is  the 
testimony  of  another  witness,  Lepitre,  who  says 
that  he  knew  more  geography  than  many  a  pro- 
fessor. Being  a  professor  himself,  Lepitre  should 
be  accounted  an  expert  witness.  As  to  the  King's 
acquaintance  with  architecture,  there  is  humbler 
evidence.  On  one  occasion  Goret  was  playing 
dominoes  with  Cldry.  His  Majesty  came  to  them, 
took  possession  of  the  pieces,  and  built  little 
houses  with  them  so  skilfully  that  it  was  plain  he 


Clery's  Journal  255 

understood  both  the  principles  of  architecture  and 
the  laws  of  equilibrium.  But  Goret  is  careful  to 
add  that  he  did  not  seem  to  be  less  proficient 
in  science  and  literature  than  in  those  modest 
mechanics  so  often  cited  to  his  disadvantage.  He 
was  a  capable  scholar,  and  *  devoted  four  hours  a 
day  to  Latin  authors.'  He  was  studying  and 
annotating  Tacitus  up  to  his  death ;  and  Clery 
estimates  that  he  must,  during  the  five  months 
of  his  sojourn  in  the  Temple,  have  read  some 
250  volumes. 

Another  of  Goret's  anecdotes  illustrates  that 
curious  touch  of  apathy — or  was  it  stoicism? — 
which  has  so  often  perplexed  his  more  enthusiastic 
admirers.  It  is  difficult  to  doubt  the  story,  which 
is  obviously  authentic.  During  the  trial  which 
occupies  the  later  pages  of  Clery's  book,  Goret 
frequently  saw  the  venerable  Lamoignon  de 
Malesherbes,  the  King's  senior  counsel,  on  his 
visits  to  his  royal  client;  and  one  of  the  old 
advocate's  utterances  sank  deeply  into  the  memory 
of  his  hearer.  'I  cannot,'  said  Malesherbes,  only 
a  few  days  before  the  execution, '  make  the  King 
pay  any  attention  to  his  affairs,  or  give  his  mind 
to  them.  Grave  as  his  position  is,  he  shows  the 
greatest  indifterence  to  it.'  But  apart  from  the 
fact  that  the  anecdote  is  inconsistent  with  Clery's 


256  Clcry^s  Journal 

account  of  the  King  and  his  legal  advisers,  it  is 
surely  possible  that  Louis,  like  his  wife,  still  at 
heart  clung  fondly  to  the  forlorn  hope  of  foreign 
intervention,  or  caught  vaguely  at  straws  such  as 
the  quixotic  Batz  scheme  for  a  rescue  at  the 
scafFold,  of  which,  naturally,  Malesherbes  could 
know  nothing.  And  there  must  have  been  other 
projects  of  the  kind  still  remaining  obscure.  '  My 
dear,  good  master  might  have  saved  himself  if  he 
had  wished,'  said  Cl^ry  mournfully  to  Goret, '  for 
in  this  place  the  windows  are  only  fifteen  or  six- 
teen feet  above  the  ground.  Everything  had  been 
prepared  for  his  escape  while  he  was  still  here,  but 
he  refused  because  his  family  could  not  be  saved 
with  him.'  '  Impassibility '  (as  Goret  calls  it) 
should  be  made  of  sterner  stuff. 

A  sculptor,  a  cook,  an  inspector  of  provisions, 
have  hitherto  been  M.  Lenotre's  corroborative 
witnesses.  Those  that  follow — or  rather  those 
whose  experiences  cover  the  period  of  Clery's 
record — are  but  two  in  number,  and  they  are 
scarcelyas  important  as  their  predecessors.  Jacques- 
Francois  Lepitre,  who  comes  first,  was  a  professor 
of  rhetoric ;  and  his  account  suggests  his  profes- 
sion. He  is  pretentious  and  egotistic,  and,  for  our 
purpose,  has  little  to  reveal.  Much  of  his  recollec- 
tions refers  to  the  frustrate  plan  for  the  escape  of 


Clerys  Journal  257 

the  royal  family  from  the  Tower  after  the  King's 
execution— a  plan  in  which  he  probably  exagger- 
ated the  value  of  his  personal  co-operation,  though 
it  seems  clear  that  its  eventual  failure  was  in  great 
measure  due  to  the  vacillating  pusillanimity  with 
which  this  'By-ends'  of  the  Terror  succeeded  in 
'  saving  his  face.'  The  really  active  agents  in  the 
proceedings  were  the  mysteriously  converted 
municipal  officer,  Fran^ois-Adrien  Toulan,  and 
the  Chevalier  de  Jarjayes,  a  devoted  and  resource- 
ful adherent  of  the  Bourbons.  But  the  Jarjayes 
scheme  belongs  to  the  history  of  failures;  and  it 
is,  moreover,  exhaustively  treated  in  M.  Paul 
Gaulot's  'Complot  sous  la  Terreur.'  Incidentally 
we  learn  from  Lepitre  that  Clery  preserved  as  a 
relic  the  communion  cloth  which  the  King  had 
used  on  the  morning  of  his  execution;  and  that 
Mme.  Clery,  who  was  a  musician,  set  to  the 
harpsichord  an  indifferent  song  of  Lepitre's  com- 
posing, entitled  '  La  Piete  Filiale,'  which  he  was 
privileged  to  hear  sung  in  the  Temple  by  the 
Dauphin  to  his  sister's  accompaniment. 

The  last  person  summoned  by  M.  Lenotre  is 
a  clerk  in  the  Caisse  d'Escompte  named  Claud 
Moelle.  He  is  simple  and  straightforward,  but 
has  not  very  much  to  say.  He  seems  to  have 
narrowly  escaped  denunciation  by  Tison  for  his 

s 


258  Clerks  Jourtial 

royalist  proclivities,  but  was  saved  by  Clery's 
intervention.  He  gives  a  pleasant  though  familiar 
account  of  the  royal  family — the  Oueen  and  the 
princesses  in  their  dimity  morning  govi^ns  and 
lawn  headdresses,  the  King  in  his  brown  coat  and 
pique  waistcoat — going  regularly  through  their 
programme  of  artless  devices  for  defying  the 
tedium  of  their  imprisonment;  and  he  too,  like 
Goret,  found  the  daily  walk  pleasurable.  Especi- 
ally notable  are  his  references  to  the  Dauphin, 
not  yet  the  cowed  and  callous  changeling  of 
Simon  and  Hebert.  He  shows  him  in  all  the 
vivacity  and  playfulness  of  an  especially  engaging 
childhood;  and  he  dwells  particularly  on  the  per- 
sonal beauty  so  manifest  in  the  Versailles  portrait 
by  Kocharski.  'This  royal  child'  (he  says)  'had 
the  noblest  and  most  lovable  face.  His  figure  was 
perfect,  and  at  that  time  he  enjoyed  the  most 
excellent  health.  His  bright,  intelligent  remarks, 
and  his  habitual  merriment,  bore  witness  to  a 
charming  character.  The  injury  done  by  his 
persecutors  to  his  fine  natural  disposition,  is,  per- 
haps, the  most  terrible  of  their  crimes.'  (Lenotre, 
pp.  142-3.) 

On  the  whole,  the  different  documents  cited 
above,  while  they  supply  some  minor  details  to 
Clery's  story,   and   occasionally  support   it,   add 


Clerys  Journal  259 

little  essential  to  his  narrative.  Their  main  value 
is  to  show  that  the  municipal  officers  w^ere  not  so 
uniformly  truculent,  or  the  gaolers  so  uniformly 
ferocious,  as  the  picturesque  historian  has  found 
it  desirable  to  depict  them.  At  the  same  time  it 
must  be  remembered  that  those  by  w^hom  these 
records  were  prepared  were  chiefly  persons  whose 
attitude  to  the  captives  was  friendly;  and  they 
none  of  them  belonged  to  those  viler  components 
of  the  Commune  whose  obtrusive  equality  strad- 
dled across  the  stove  in  front  of '  Capet,'  or  flung 
itself  in  '  extremely  dirty  garments  '  on  the  solitary 
sofa  of  Marie  Antoinette.  If  we  had  their  version 
of  things,  it  would  doubtless  contain  passages  as 
unfavoiuable  to  the  prisoners  as  those  of  v/hich 
we  have  a  foretaste  in  Daujon.  Again,  the  ex- 
periences of  Daujon,  Goret,  Lepitre,  and  Moelle 
have  this  peculiarity — they  are  intermittent  and 
occasional.  Those  of  Turgy  only  are,  like  Clery's, 
continuous;  and  Turgy  was  not  a  resident  in  the 
Temple,  but  simply  saw  the  royal  family  at  meal- 
time. It  is  to  Clery,  therefore,  that  we  must  go, 
and  continue  to  go,  for  the  canonical  account  of 
the  King  of  France's  last  days  in  prison,  his 
preparation  for  trial,  his  parting  from  his  family, 
and  his  demeanour  up  to  the  fatal  21st  of  January 
1793.    This  Cl^ry  alone  can  give  us  accurately 


26o  Clevy's  Journal 

and  intimately;  but  the  story  has  been  too  often 
told  to  need  repetition  here.  As,  however,  we 
have  quoted  freely  from  other  witnesses,  we  may 
fairly  subjoin  the  last  passages  of  his  'Journal ': 

*  All  the  troops  in  Paris  had  been  under  arms 
from  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  [of  the  2ist 
January  1793].  The  beat  of  drums,  the  clash  of 
arms,  the  trampling  of  horses,  the  removal  of 
cannon,  which  were  incessantly  carried  from  one 
place  to  another,  all  resounded  at  the  l^ower. 

'  At  half  after  eight  o'clock,  the  noise  increased, 
the  doors  were  thrown  open  with  great  clatter, 
when  S  ant  err  e,  accompanied  by  seven  or  eight 
Municipal  Officers,  entered  at  the  head  of  ten 
soldiers,  and  drew  them  up  in  two  lines.  At  this 
movement,  the  King  came  out  of  his  closet,  and 
said  to  Santerre:  "You  are  come  for  me?" — 
"  Yes,"  was  the  answer — "  A  moment,"  said  the 
King,  and  went  to  his  closet,  from  which  he 
instantly  returned,  followed  by  his  Confessor.  His 
Majesty  had  his  Will  in  his  hand,  and  addressing 
a  Municipal  Officer  (named  Jaques  Roux^  a 
priest),  who  happened  to  stand  before  the  others, 
said:  "  I  beg  you  to  give  this  paper  to  the  Queen, 
to  my  wife." — "  It  is  no  business  of  mine,"  replied 
he, refusing  to  take  it ;  "I  am  come  here  to  conduct 
you  to  the  scaffi^ld."    His  Majesty  then  turned  to 


Clerks  J otirnal  261 

Goheau^  another  Municipal  Officer.  "  I  beg,"  said 
he,  "that  you  will  give  this  paper  to  my  wife; 
you  may  read  it;  there  are  some  particulars  in  it 
I  wish  to  be  made  known  to  the  Commune." 

'  I  was  standing  behind  the  King,  near  the  fire- 
place; he  turned  round  to  me,  and  I  offered  him 
his  great  coat,  "  I  don't  want  it,"  said  he ;  "  give 
me  only  my  hat."  I  presented  it  to  him.  His 
hand  met  mine,  which  he  pressed  once  more  for 
the  last  time.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  addressing 
the  Municipal  Officers,  "I  should  be  glad  that 
Clery  might  stay  with  my  son,  as  he  has  been 
accustomed  to  be  attended  by  him:  I  trust  that 
the  Commune  will  grant  this  request."  His 
Majesty  then  looked  at  Santerre^  and  said,  "  Lead 


on  ! 


'These  were  the  last  words  he  spoke  in  his 
apartments.  On  the  top  of  the  stairs  he  met 
Mathey^  the  warden  of  the  Tower,  to  whom  he 
said,  "I  spoke  with  some  little  quickness  to  you 
the  day  before  yesterday;  do  not  take  it  ill." 
Mathey  made  no  answer,  and  even  affected  to 
turn  from  the  King  while  he  was  speaking. 

*  I  remained  alone  in  the  chamber,  overwhelmed 
with  sorrow,  and  almost  without  sense  of  feeling. 
The  drums  and  trumpets  proclaimed  His  Majesty's 
departure  from  the  Tower.  ...  An  hour  after, 


262  Clerys  Journal 

discharges  of  artillery, and  cries  of" /^/^'^  la  Nation! 
Vive  la  Republique !  "  were  heard.  .  .  .  The  best 
of  Kings  was  no  more ! ' 

Verily  this  man  was  a  hero  to  his  valet !  With 
the  death  of  Louis  XVI  Cl(5ry's  record  ends 
abruptly.  Of  the  subsequent  executions  of  the 
Queen  and  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  of  the 
long-drawn  tragedy  of  the  poor  little  Dauphin, 
he  had  apparently  no  experiences  to  relate.  But, 
as  promised  at  the  outset  of  this  paper,  it  may  be 
worth  while  for  a  moment  to  follow  his  further 
fortunes.  The  King,  in  his  will,  mentioned 
him  specifically,  expressing  entire  satisfaction  with 
his  performance  of  his  duties,  and  begging  the 
'  Gentlemen  of  the  Commune  '  to  see  that  certain 
articles  then  lodged  with  them  were  handed  to 
him.  According  to  the  Abb6  Edgeworth,  his 
Majesty  also  expressed  a  desire  that  C16ry  should 
be  transferred  to  the  service  of  Marie  Antoinette. 
The  only  appreciable  result  of  these  recommenda- 
tions seems  to  have  been  that  he  was  promptly 
separated  from  the  other  prisoners  and  confined 
more  strictly.  After  a  month,  owing  to  the 
entreaties  of  Mme.  Cl(^'ry,  he  was  released  by 
Garat,  the  Minister  of  Justice,  upon  condition 
that  he  quitted  Paris  and  remained  under  police 
surveillance.    He  retired  to  a  little  country  house 


Clery's  Journal  263 

he  had  at  Juvisy,  where  he  continued  to  be 
subjected  to  periodical  denunciation  and  domicili- 
ary visits.  At  the  beginning  of  the  Terror  he  was 
included  in  the  Girondist  proscriptions  and  sent 
to  La  Force.  When,  a  year  later,  Robespierre  fell, 
he  was  released  by  the  Conseil-General,  who,  re- 
cognizing his  scrupulous  fidelity  to  the  Republic, 
moreover  took  into  consideration  the  fact  that  he 
had  neither  claimed  nor  received  any  remunera- 
tion from  his  late  master.  Being  practically  with- 
out means  of  subsistence,  he  accepted  a  precarious 
place  as  a  clerk  in  an  office,  which  still  left  him 
extremely  poor.  After  the  death  of  the  Dauphin 
in  1795  came  the  negotiations  for  the  release,  in 
exchange  for  Lafayette,  of  Madame  Royale,  who 
promptly  summoned  Clery  to  follow  her  to 
Austria.  He  thereupon  sold  his  only  remaining 
property,  his  Juvisy  house;  left  half  the  proceeds 
to  his  family,  and  with  the  balance  repaired  to 
his  brother's  at  Strasburg  to  await  the  arrival  of 
his  young  mistress.  At  Strasburg  he  stayed  three 
months ;  and  then,  having  learned  that  Madame 
Royale  was  on  her  way,  contrived,  with  his 
brother's  aid,  to  escape  from  France  and  join  her 
at  Wels,  thirty-six  leagues  from  Vienna.  Here,  at 
last,  he  was  enabled  to  fulfil  the  King's  com- 
missions to  his  family.    He  also  visited  the  new 


264  diary's  Journal 

King,  Louis  XVIII  (the  Comte  de  Provence), 
and  by  him  was  speedily  employed  on  divers 
secret  missions. 

At  vi^hat  period,  under  the  title  of  the  'Journal 
du  Temple,'  he  began  to  put  together  the  loose 
memoranda  to  which  he  refers  in  his  opening 
lines,  is  not  quite  clear.  By  one  authority  it  is 
stated  that  this  constituted  his  main  occupation 
during  his  residence  at  Strasburg.^  But  from  a 
letter  by  him  in  the  '  Souvenirs '  of  the  artist 
Mme.  Vig6e-Lebrun,  dated  from  Vienna  in  1796, 
it  is  doubtful  whether  the  manuscript  was  even 
then  actually  ready  for  the  press.  This  letter, 
which  seems  to  be  little  known,  is  extremely 
interesting.  In  the  early,  happy  days,  Mme. 
Vig6e-Lebrun  had  painted  Marie  Antoinette  and 
her  three  children  in  a  famous  picture  still  at 
Versailles;  and  she  now  desired  to  perpetuate 
with  her  brush  some  one  of  the  '  touching  and 
solemn  moments'  which  preceded  the  Queen's 
execution.  Having  ascertained  C16ry's  where- 
abouts, she  applied  to  him  for  information  and 
assistance.    His  answer,  above  referred  to,  is  full 

1  M.  Lenotre  says  that  he  began  his  recollections  at  the 
instigation  of  the  Princess  Hohenlohe.  This  may  be  so; 
but  it  cannot  have  been  as  stated  in  1799,  for  Ciery's 
'  Journar  was  published  in  London  in  1798. 


Clcrfs  Journal  265 

of  minute  and  intimate  directions  which  supple- 
ment, and  to  some  extent  complete,  his  own 
printed  account.  He  suggested  several  incidents 
for  treatment;  but  his  preference  was  for  the 
farewell  scene,  more  especially  because  an  en- 
graving of  that  scene,  which  was  inaccurate  both 
as  regards  resemblance  and  environment,  had 
already  appeared  in  England.  He  described  in 
detail  the  rudely-papered,  squalid  room,  about 
fifteen  feet  square,  in  which  the  final  parting 
took  place,  the  barred  and  screened  window 
narrowing  to  its  dim  aperture  in  the  nine-foot 
wall ;  the  faience  stove  blocking  up  the  embrasure 
and  crowded  round  by  the  sombre  municipal 
officers;  the  feeble  Argand  lamp;  the  poor  King 
struggling  manfully  to  control  himself,  but  griev- 
ously affected  by  the  grief  of  his  family;  the 
Queen — her  beautiful  hair  '  blanchi  par  les  mal- 
heurs' — half-fainting  on  his  shoulder;  the  sorrow- 
ing sister  and  children  clinging  about  his  knees. 

The  letter  also  gives  minute  particulars  con- 
cerning the  costume  of  the  figures,  but  winds  up 
with  a  request  that  the  information  may  be  re- 
garded as  confidential,  as  it  had  not  yet  been 
given  to  the  public.  Mme.  Vigee-Lebrun,  on 
second  thoughts,  considered  the  subject  too  pain- 
ful for  portrayal,  at  all  events  by  herself.    Three 


266  Clhys  Journal 

years  later,  however,  she  sent  from  St.  Petersburg 
to  Madame  Royale  at  Mittau  a  memory  portrait 
of  Marie  Antoinette.  This,  based  no  doubt  as 
much  on  Clary's  indications  as  her  own  recollec- 
tions, was  warmly  welcomed  by  its  recipient,  at 
that  time  Duchesse  d'Angoulcme,  in  a  letter  of 
which  a  facsimile  is  printed  by  the  artist.^ 

Clery's  letter  to  Mme.  Vig6e-Lebrun  bears 
date  27th  October  1796.  But  the  publication  of 
the  'Journal,'  to  wliich  it  refers,  did  not  immedi- 
ately follow.  In  1797  attempts  were  made  to 
print  it  in  the  Austrian  capital;  but  though  there 
were  many  subscribers,  the  chancellery  refused 
the  requisite  visa.  The  author  then  determined 
to  carry  it  to  London.  Before  starting,  he  went 
to  Blankenburg  to  submit  his  manuscript  to 
Louis  XVIII,  who  read  it,  and  added  as  an  epi- 
graph the  words  of  iEneas  to  Dido — 'Animus 

»  '  Souvenirs  de  Madame  Vigee-Lebrun  '  (1835),  ii,  34^- 
51.  In  1793  the  'Berlin  Hogarth,'  Daniel  Chodowiecki, 
executed  two  engravings  for  the  '  Historisch-genealogischer 
Almanach,'  representing  the  arrest  of  Louis  XVI  at 
St.  Menehould  in  June  1 791,  and  his  subsequent  acceptance 
of  the  Constitution.  Chodowiecki  must  later  have  made 
Clery's  acquaintance,  for  in  1799  he  etched  a  plate  of 
Clery's  children,  then  resident  in  the  artist's  house  in  the 
Behrenstrasse  at  Berlin.  (Engelmann's  'Catalogue  of 
Chodowiecki,'  1857,  p.  494.) 


Clery's  Journal  267 

meminisse  horret.'  The  King  also  sent  to  Clery 
in  England  the  Order  of  St.  Louis,  with  a  holo- 
graph letter  of  commendation.  '  You  have  shown ' 
(he  wrote)  '  no  less  courage  in  the  prison  of  the 
Temple  than  the  warrior  who  braves  death  on 
the  field  of  honour;  and  in  awarding  to  you  the 
decoration  which  serves  him  as  a  recompense  I 
do  no  wrong  to  the  spirit  of  this  noble  institution. 
In  London  Cl^ry  lodged  at  29,  Great  Pulteney 
Street,  Golden  Square,  where  he  speedily  found 
patrons  and  a  publisher.  The  English  version 
of  his  book,  prepared,  as  its  title-page  proclaims, 
from'the  original  manuscript,' was  by  R.C.  Dallas, 
subsequently  the  translator  of  many  Revolutionary 
records,  including  Hue's  '  Memoirs,'  but  now 
remembered  chiefly  by  what  Moore  calls  his 
'•  most  authentic  and  trustworthy ' '  Recollections ' 
of  his  relative.  Lord  Byron.  The  'Journal'  must 
have  appeared  in  the  middle  of  1798,  as  a  note  to 
its  list  of  subscribers  is  dated  25th  May.  There 
was  also  a  French  edition.^  The  subscription  list, 
which  is  headed  by  the  whole  of  the  English 
royal  family,  runs  to  thirty-two  closely-printed 
columns,    and    includes    many    illustrious    sym- 

1  A  further  translation  by  John  Bennett  appeared  in 
1828}  and,  during  the  progress  of  this  volume  through 
the  press,  a  third  has  been  published. 


268  Clerys  Journal 

pathizers  with  the  Temple  captives.  Pitt  is  there, 
and  Dundas;  but  neither  Sheridan  nor  Fox.^ 
'  Scott — Esq.'  and  '  Rogers — Esq.'  ?nay  mean 
Walter  Scott  and  Samuel  Rogers.  But  Scott, 
who  had  as  yet  published  nothing,  did  not  pay 
his  first  visit  to  London  until  1799.  That  he 
then,  or  later,  met  Clery  is  plain  from  a  note  to 
his  'Life  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,'  ch.  xiii: 
'  Clery '  (he  says)  '  we  have  seen  and  known,  and 
the  form  and  manners  of  that  model  of  pristine 
faith  and  loyalty  can  never  be  forgotten.  Gentle- 
manlike and  complaisant  in  his  manners,  his  deep 
gravity  and  melancholy  features  announced  that  the 
sad  scenes,  in  which  he  had  acted  a  part  so  honour- 
able, were  never  for  a  moment  out  of  his  memory.' 
There  was  another  person  who  undoubtedly 
saw  Clery  in  London,  and  helped  him  to  sub- 
scribers, although,  by  admitted  misadventure,  his 
name  does  not  appear  in  the  roll.  This  was 
Mme.  D'Arblay's  father,  bustling  Dr.  Charles 
Burney  of  St.  Martin's  Street,  who  at  once  hurried 
off  an  account  of  his  new  acquaintance  to  his 
daughter  and  her  French  husband  in  Surrey. 
M.  D'Arblay  had  been  adjutant-general  to  La- 
fayette; and  both  he  and  his  clever  little  wife 
were  naturally  ardent  Royalists.  Shortly  after- 
^  Cf.  'Percy  and  Goldsmith,'  p.  39. 


Clery's  Journal  269 

wards  the  'Journal'  arrives  at  Camilla  Cottage, 
and  '  half-kills  '  its  readers.  '  The  deepest  tragedy 
they  have  yet  met  with  is  slight  to  it.'  *The 
extreme  plainness  and  simplicity  of  the  style,  the 
clearness  of  the  detail,  the  unparading  yet  evident 
worth  and  feeling  of  the  writer,  make  it  a  thousand 
times  more  affecting  than  if  it  had  been  drawn 
out  with  the  most  striking  eloquence.'  Mme. 
D'Arblay  asks  for  more;  she  'wants  a  second 
part.'  What  of  the  remaining  members  of  the 
royal  family?  What  of  the  tokens  intended  for 
the  Oueen  and  the  Dauphin?  As  to  the  other 
prisoners,  Clery,  as  already  explained,  at  the  time 
of  writing,  had  probably  no  further  particulars  to 
give;  but  respecting  the  tokens,  which  duly 
reached  their  destination  by  other  hands,  he  prints 
a  note  at  the  end  of  his  volume.  This  Mme. 
D'Arblay  must  have  overlooked.* 

1  The  tokens  were  a  seal,  intended  for  the  Dauphin,, 
and  a  ring  for  the  Queen.  They  were  sent  by  Marie 
Antoinette  to  her  husband's  brothers,  and  Clery  apparently 
saw  them  at  Blankenburg,  with  the  notes  which  had  ac- 
companied them,  of  which  he  was  allowed  to  print  fac- 
similes. (See  Appendix  B.)  Mme.  D'Arblay  would  have 
been  delighted  to  know,  what  she  probably  died  without 
learning,  that  'Camilla'  and  'Evelina'  were  among  the 
books  asked  for  by  the  Queen  and  Mme.  Elizabeth  during 
their  imprisonment. 


2/0  Clery's  Journal 

There  is  little  more  to  say  of  this  emphatically 
Meal  serviteur.'  The  'Journal'  was  printed 
secretly  in  France  in  1799,  and  it  was  translated 
into  most  European  languages.  As  might  perhaps 
have  been  expected,  its  authenticity  was  hotly 
questioned  and  defended.  Under  the  Directory, 
much  to  its  writer's  indignation,  it  was  garbled 
and  falsified;  and  later  he  was  coolly  invited,  as  a 
preliminary  to  a  fresh  French  edition,  to  append 
a  postscript  in  praise  of  the  existing  Government. 
Napoleon,  always  anxious  to  surround  himself  by 
the  old  servants  of  Louis  XVI,oifered  him  the  post 
of  seniorchamberlain  to  Josephine ;  but  he  declined 
it,  thereby  seriously  offending  the  First  Consul. 
Finally,  in  1 809,  in  his  fifty-first  year,  broken  by 
constant  vexations,  intrigues,  and  journeyings  to 
and  fro,  Clery  died  at  Hietzing,  a  suburb  of 
Vienna,  close  to  the  park  of  Schonbrunn.  Upon 
his  tombstone  is  the  simple  inscription,  '  Ci-git 
le  fidele  Clery.'  In  1 8 1 7  Louis  XVIII  gave  letters 
of  nobility  to  his  daughter. 


THE  OXFORD  THACKERAY 

SINCE  the  appearance,  some  years  ago,  of 
Thackeray's  works  in  the  '  Biographical ' 
Edition,  which,  from  Lady  Ritchie's  introduc- 
tions, must  always  retain  a  distinctive  and  special 
value,  there  have  been  several  competitive,  if  not 
rival,  issues.  There  is,  for  instance,  that  of  Messrs. 
Macmillan,  reproducing,  wholly  or  chiefly,  the 
text  of  the  first  editions;  there  is  also  a  pretty 
'Temple'  edition,  with  notes  by  Mr.  Walter 
Jerrold.  And  now  Mr.  Henry  Frowde  has  added 
to  these  another,  which,  besides  the  happy  acci- 
dent of  its  being  the  latest,  may  fairly  lay  claim 
to  particular  merits  of  its  own.  It  is  excellently 
printed  and  produced ;  and  it  is  extremely  moder- 
ate in  price.  You  may  get  it  thick  or  thin, 
according  to  your  fancy — that  is  to  say,  you 
may  have  it  on  ordinary  paper,  or  on  that  frail- 
looking  but  durable  Oxford  India  tissue,  which 
compresses  the  thousand  pages  of  *The  New- 
comes  '  to  a  width  of  three-quarters  of  an  inch. 
You  can  also  obtain  it  bound  in  a  style  as  simple 
as  that  of  Southey's  'Cottonian  '  library,  or  sump- 

271 


2/2  The  Oxford  Thackeray 

tuous  enough  for  the  shelves  of  the  most  fastidious 
book-lover.  It  claims  to  be  the  fullest  in  the 
market,  and  its  arrangement,  as  that  of  such  col- 
lections should  be,  is  in  the  main  chronological. 
It  has  also  an  admirable  and  exhaustive  index. 

These  are  definite  and  praiseworthy  charac- 
teristics; but — as  will  be  shown — the  Oxford 
Thackeray  has  some  others  which  are  equally  ex- 
ceptional. In  the  first  place,  it  is  very  liberally 
illustrated.  There  is  a  noble  gallery  of  Thackeray 
portraits,  from  Devile's  bust  in  the  National 
Portrait  Gallery,  to  the  less-known  drawing  by 
Goodwyn  Lewis  in  the  Public  Library  at 
Kensington.  There  are  admirable  facsimiles  of 
Thackeray's  beautiful  neat  script — pages  of  The 
Newcomes,'  from  the  Museum  at  Charterhouse; 
pages  of  '  Esmond,'  from  the  original  MS.  at 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  But  it  is  in  the 
reproduction,  which  the  multiplied  processes  now 
make  so  easy,  of  the  earlier  illustrations  that  these 
volumes  are  richest.  Here  are  all  the  etchings 
and  woodcuts  of  Cruikshank  to  '  A  Legend  of 
the  Rhine'  and  the  'Fatal  Boots';  here  are 
Dicky  Doyle's  designs  to  '  The  Newcomes '  and 
'  Rebecca  and  Rowena';  here  are  those  of  Fred 
Walker  to  'Philip'  and  'Denis  Duval,'  and  of 
Kenny  Meadows  to  the  '  Heads  of  the  People.' 


The  Oxford  Thackeray  273 

Also  there  are  the  illustrations  of  the  author  him- 
self to  '  Vanity  Fair,'  to  '  Pendennis,'  to  the  '  Vir- 
ginians,' to  the  '  Rose  and  the  Ring,'  and  the 
rest.  In  addition  to  these,  there  is  a  *  vast '  of 
specimens,  from  '  Punch  '  and  other  sources,  of 
what  Thackeray  pleasantly  called  his  'own  can- 
dles.' As  to  the  merit  of  this  side  of  his  talent, 
opinion  has  been  somewhat  divided.  But  com- 
pared, as  they  can  in  this  connection  be  com- 
pared, with  the  leading  comic  art  of  Thackeray's 
day,  we  see  little  to  choose  between  the  artist 
and  his  contemporaries.  Indeed,  we  find  no  reason 
for  putting  him  much  below  Doyle;  and,  in  the 
matter  of  initial  letters,  we  hold  the  pair — in 
invention,  at  all  events — to  have  been  nearly 
equal;  while  if  Thackeray  cannot  be  regarded  as 
rivalling  Cruikshank  in  occasional  tragic  power 
(and  we  are  not  sure  that  he  does  not  so  rival 
him  in  the  picture  of  '  Sir  Pitt's  Last  Stage '),  he 
seldom  declines,  as  the  artist  of  the  '  Fatal  Boots ' 
does  sometimes  decline,  into  sheer  broad-grin  and 
horse-collar  hilarity.  It  may,  of  course,  be  urged 
that  some  of  the  '  Punch  '  illustrations  are  of  the 
most  fugitive  kind,  and  that  the  Lardner  boutades^ 
and  a  few  others,  were  scarcely  worth  reviving. 
But,  when  all  is  said  and  done,  these  sketches, 
whatever  their  technical  merits  or  demerits,  are 

T 


274  T^^^  Oxford  Thackeray 

part  of  the  author's  intellectual  output,  and,  where 
they  illustrate  his  writings,  represent,  more  nearly 
than  it  would  be  possible  for  any  second  person 
to  represent,  what  he  wished  to  convey  to  his 
readers.^ 

These  illustrations,  then — there  are  said  to  be 
nearly  two  thousand  of  them — form  a  feature  of 
the  new  edition  which  cannot  be  overrated.    But 

^  Thackeray  has  been  accused  of  conscious  caricature, 
even  in  his  gravest  graphic  efforts 5  and  it  may  be  admitted 
that,  with  every  primarily  humorous  artist,  the  grotesque 
will  often  assert  itself  inopportunely.  M.  Taine,  who  re- 
garded Peggy  O'Dowd  and  M.  Alcide  Mirobolant  as 
literary  caricatures,  would  probably  not  object  to  their 
being  artistically  presented  as  such.  But  there  is  an  anec- 
dote in  the  Roundabout  Paper  '  De  Finibus  '  which  oppor- 
tunely vindicates  Thackeray  both  as  artist  and  author. 
He  had,  he  tells  us,  invented  Captain  Costigan  of 'Pen- 
dennis'  'out  of  scraps,  heel-taps,  odds  and  ends  of  charac- 
ters.' Years  after,  he  was  '  smoking  in  a  tavern  parlour 
one  night — and  this  Costigan  came  into  the  room  alive — 
the  very  man:  the  most  remarkable  resemblance  of  the  printed 
sketches  of  the  man,  of  the  rude  dranv'ings  in  mohich  I  had 
depicted  him.  [The  italics  are  ours.]  He  had  the  same 
little  coat,  the  same  battered  hat,  cocked  on  one  eye,  the 
same  twinkle  in  that  eye.'  He  spoke  with  an  Irish  broguej 
he  had  been  in  the  army;  and  he  completed  the  likeness 
by  accepting  a  glass  of  brandy-and-water  and  volunteering 
a  song.  In  the  same  paper  Thackeray  says  parenthetically 
and  significantly  that  Walker's  Philip  Firmin  is  not  his 
Philip. 


The  Oxford  Thackeray  275 

that  edition  is  also  fortunate  in  another  respect — 
it  is  admirably  edited  and  arranged.  Mr.  Saints- 
bury,  to  whom  this  office  has  fallen,  requires  no 
commendation  at  our  hands.  His  reputation  as  a 
critic  and  man  of  letters  is  not  a  matter  of  yester- 
day, or  the  day  before.  Yet,  in  this  particular 
instance,  it  may  be  pertinent  to  observe  that  few 
scholars  of  our  time  would  seem  to  be  better 
equipped.  As  the  historian  of  both  English  and 
French  literature;  as  the  intimate  student  of  the 
rise  and  development  of  the  novel;  as  the  editor 
of  Fielding  and  Sterne — of  Balzac  and  M^rimee, 
he  has  manifestly  initial  qualifications  not  often 
to  be  found  combined  in  one  and  the  same  person. 
What  is  still  more  to  the  point,  he  is  a  fervent 
and  faithful  devotee  of  the  writer  of  'Esmond' 
and  'Vanity  Fair.'  His  study  of  his  theme,  he 
says  in  his  '  Preface,'  '  has  at  least  one  justifica- 
tion— it  is  of  an  author  who  has  been,  for  more 
than  forty  years,  more  frequently  in  the  hands, 
and  more  constantly  in  the  head  and  heart  of  the 
student,  than  any  other  in  prose  and  almost  than 
any  other  in  rhyme.'  In  other  words,  he  is  him- 
self, as  he  says  of  Thackeray's  old  friend,  the  late 
Sir  Frederick  Pollock — '  vir  Thackeraianissimus.' 
'  For  more  than  forty  years,'  also  reminds  us  that, 
although  Mr.  Saintsbury  neither  knew  nor  (to  the 


276  The  Oxford  Thackeray 

best  of  his  belief)  ever  saw  his  author,  he  is  to 
some  extent  of  that  author's  day — no  slight  recom- 
mendation in  this  epoch  of  short  memories  and 
shorter-lived  notorieties.  If — as  he  observes  else- 
where—  he  can  recall  the  *  green  covers '  of  Bleak 
House '  in  the  booksellers'  windows,  he  must  also 
recall  the  yellow  covers  of  *  The  Newcomes '  and 
'  The  Virginians.'  Nor  can  he  have  forgotten  the 
first  volumes  of  the  '  Cornhill  Magazine';  and 
that  mournful  sixth  column  in  the  'Times' of 
Christmas  1863,  which  told  those  who  had  fretted 
a  little  over  the  longueurs  of  '  Philip  '  that '  Denis 
Duval'  would  never  be  finished,  since,  for  its 
inventor,  'Finis  itself  iiad  come  to  an  end,  and 
the  Infinite  had  begun.' 

To  call  the  Oxford  Thackeray  complete  would 
not  be  strictly  accurate.  Although  it  may  fairly 
be  described  as  '  the  fullest,'  there  have  been  omis- 
sions of  set  purpose.  For  instance,  in  spite  of  the 
opinion  of  some  '  eminent  hands,'  Mr.  Saintsbury 
has  not  scrupled  to  leave  out  '  Elizabeth  Brown- 
rigge — that  notorious  malefactor,  who,  in  Can- 
ning's parody  of  Southey — 

whipped  two  female  'prentices  to  death 
And  hid  them  in  the  coal-hole. 

Notwithstanding  that,  like  'Catherine,'  it  is 

plainly  prompted  by  the  monstrosities  of  'Eugene 


The  Oxford  Thackeray  277 

Aram  '  and  the  Bulwer  school,  the  editor  can  find 
no  evidence  that  Thackeray  is  responsible  for  the 
Brownrigge  epopee.  One  cannot,  of  course,  be 
certain.  But  that  a  writer  who,  from  youth  to 
maturity,  revealed  himself  at  all  times  and  every- 
where, does  not  so  reveal  himself  in  an  anonymous 
piece  which  is  attributed  to  him,  is  a  very  sufficient 
ground  for  not  preserving  such  a  piece,  except 
in  some  supplementary  limbo  of  doubtful  per- 
formances. Thackeray's  fame  can  do  without 
'■  Elizabeth  Brownrigge.'  On  the  other  hand  it 
will  occasionally  happen  that  papers,  such  as  the 
semi-political  letters  of  '  Our  Own  Correspond- 
ent '  from  Paris  to  the  *  Constitutional,'  though 
manifestly  authentic,  may,  from  the  writer's  lack 
of  sympathy  with  his  task,  represent  him  at  his 
worst  and  weakest;  and  in  this  case,  too,  a  sound 
editorial  faculty  has  no  option  but  to  pronounce 
sentence  of  banishment.  For  these,  and  other 
excluded  things,  Mr.  Saintsbury  gives  very  ex- 
cellent and  categorical  explanation  in  the  seven- 
teen '  I  ntroductions '  which  accompany  the  volumes 
and  which,  indeed,  would  almost  make  a  volume — 
and  a  most  interesting  volume — by  themselves. 
From  the  chronological  arrangement  which  has 
with  certain  modifications  been  adopted,  they 
take  the  form  of  a  sequence  of  connected  chapters, 


2/8  The  Oxford  Thackeray 

rather  than  detached  essays,  and  so  constitute  a 
body  of  Thackeray  criticism,  which,  by  its  close 
insight  and  trained  ability,  its  happily-remem- 
bered illustrations,  and  its  opulence  of  informa- 
tion, cannot  safely  be  neglected  by  any  student 
in  the  future.  With  the  first  and  last  of  these 
'  Introductions '  is  included  a  sufficient  array  of 
biographical  facts  to  satisfy  any  reader  as  yet  un- 
acquainted with  the  somewhat  scanty  material  of 
the  existing  lives. 

What  strikes  one  most  forcibly  in  turning  over 
the  pages  of  the  earlier  volumes  is  the  inordinate 
amount  of  preliminary  work  done  by  Thackeray 
before  he  finally  *  rang  the  bell '  with  '  Vanity 
Fair.'  This  is  the  more  notable  because  it  is  not 
difficult  (after  the  event)  todetect  many  indications 
of  his  coming  triumphs  in  these  only  partially 
successful  or  wholly  unsuccessful  '  prolusions  '  of 
his  probationary  epoch.  In  '  Catherine  '  and  '  The 
Luck  of  Barry  Lyndon' there  is  much  of 'Esmond' 
and  'The  Virginians' ;  thereviews  in  the  'Times' 
and  elsewhere  anticipate  something  of  '  The 
Humourists '  and  '  The  Four  Georges ':  there  are 
premonitions  in  essays  like  the  '  Curate's  Walk ' 
of  the  inimitable  'Roundabout  Papers';  the 
famous  Quadrilateral  of  novels  has  its  first  fore- 
shadowings  in  the  'Shabby  Genteel  Story,'  the 


The  Oxford  Thackeray  279 

'Great  Hoggarty  Diamond'  and  so  forth;  while 
the  '  Burlesques,'  the  '  Ballads,'  the  '  Prize  Novel- 
ist,' the  'Snob  Papers,'  and  the  'Sketch-  and 
Christmas-Books '  are  everywhere  strewn  full- 
handed  with  the  first  fruits  of  the  wit,  satire, 
humour,  grasp  of  character,  happy  phrasing,  and 
unflagging  vis  viva  which  go  to  make  up  the 
later  efforts  of  the  Master.  Yet  no  fewer  than 
ten  volumes  of  Mr.  Saintsbury's  seventeen  have 
been  exhausted,  and  the  writer  has  reached  his 
mid-literary  career,  before  the  little  pilot-boat  of 
'Mrs.  Perkins'  Ball,'  the  unequal  'Snob  Papers,' 
and  the  novel  of  'Vanity  Fair'  (the  last  only 
gradually),  at  length  usher  him  into  his  inheritance 
of  previously  unfulfilled  renown. 

In  the  '  Introduction '  to  '  Vanity  Fair,'  Mr. 
Saintsbury  so  exactly  '  places '  that  masterpiece, 
and  so  scientifically  defines  its  precise  function  in 
the  evolution  of  English  fiction,  that,  even  at  the 
risk  of  a  prolonged  quotation,  we  venture  to  re- 
produce his  words: 

'  A  succession  of  great  novelists  from  Richard- 
son onwards  had  been  endeavouring  to  bring  the 
novel  proper — the  prose  fiction  which  depends 
upon  ordinary  life  and  character  only — into  com- 
plete being.  Fielding  had  very  nearly  done  it : 
but  what  was  ordinary  life  in  his  time  had  ceased 


28o  The  Oxford  Thackeray 

to  be  ordinary.  Miss  Austen  had  quite  done  it : 
but  she  had  deliberately  restricted  her  plan.  In 
the  thirty  years  between  her  death  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  'Vanity  Fair'  attempts  at  it  had 
multiplied  enormously  in  number:  but  the  mag- 
nificent success  of  Scott  in  another  line  had  drawn 
off  the  main  body  of  attention  and  attempt — to 
no  great  profit.  The  really  distinguished  novels 
since  Scott,  had  been  sports  of  eccentric  talent 
like  Peacock's;  specialist  studies  like  Marryat's; 
medleys  of  genius  and  failure  of  genius  like  Bul- 
wer's  and  Disraeli's;  brilliant  but  fantastic,  and 
not  poetically  fantastic,  nondescripts  like  the 
work  of  Dickens. 

'After,  or  rather  amid  all  this  chase  of  rather 
wandering  fires,  there  came  forward  once  more, 
'  the  proper  study  of  mankind,'  unerringly  con- 
ducted as  such,  but  also  serving  as  occasion  for 
consummate  work  in  art.  The  old,  old  contrast  of 
substance  and  shadow  is  almost  the  only  one  for 
Thackeray's  figures  and  those  of  his  immediate 
predecessors  and  contemporaries.  In  comparison 
(though  by  no  means  always  positively)  they  walk 
and  act  while  the  others  flit  and  gesticulate;  they 
speak  with  the  voice  /^lEpoVajv  avBccoTruVy  while  the 
others  squeak  and  gibber;  they  live  and  move 
and  have  being,  while  the  others  dance  the  dance 


The  Oxford  Thackeray  28 1 

of  puppets  and  execute  the  manoeuvres  of  omhre% 
chinoises.  ...  As  always — because  a  writer  of  this 
kind  is  rather  the  first  articulate  prophet  of  a  new 
revelation  than  its  monopolist — something  of  the 
same  quality  was  soon  diffused.^  But  he  was  the 
first  prophet :  and  to  this  day  he  is  the  greatest.' 

Mr.  Saintsbury  has  other  things  to  say  of 
*  Vanity  Fair':  but  to  these  we  must  refer  the 
reader.  We  observe,  however,  with  pleasure,  that 
he  is  not  prepared  to  endorse  M.  Taine's  prefer- 
ence for  Valerie  Marneffe  as  a  conception  over 
Becky  Sharp.  While  he  is  at  one  with  the  French 
critic  in  considering  Thackeray  hard  upon  Becky, 
he  holds  that — Beatrix  Esmond  excepted — '  there 
is  no  woman  so  great  in  English  literature  out  of 
Shakespeare.'  And,  as  an  editor  of  Balzac,  he  is 
entitled  to  his  opinion. 

The  reference  to  Beatrix  reminds  us  there  have 
been  recent  indications  that  modern  criticism, 
seeking  vaguely  after  originality,  may  come  at 
length  to  assert  that  'Esmond  '  in  reality y^/A  to 
revive  the  eighteenth  century,  and  that  its  author 
did  not^  as  he  fondly  believed,  '  copy  the  language 
of  Queen  Anne.'  So,  somewhile  the  pendulum 
swings!     In  the  meantime,   Mr.    Saintsbury    is 

^  Its  influence  is  to  lie  traced  in  Dickens. 


282  The  Oxford  Thackeray 

worth  listening  to.  The  function  of  Thackeray 
in  the  historical  novel  was:  'Not  merely  to  dis- 
cuss or  moralize,  but  to  represent  the  period  as  it 
was,  without  forfeiting  the  privilege  of  regarding 
it  from  a  point  of  view  which  it  had  not  itself 
reached.  ,  .  .  Thackeray,  with  the  conveniences 
of  the  novel,  and  the  demands  of  his  audience, 
d'lchotomi'z.es  the  presentation  while  observing  a 
certain  unity  in  the  fictitious  person,  now  of 
Henry  Esmond,  now  of  William  Makepeace 
Thackeray  himself.  If  anybody  does  not  like  the 
result,  there  is  nothing  to  be  said.  But  there  are 
those  who  regard  it  as  one  of  the  furthest  explora- 
tions that  we  yet  possess  of  human  genius — one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  achievements  of  that 
higher  imagination  which  Coleridge  liked  to  call 
esenoplast'ic}  That  a  man  should  have  the  faculty 
of  reproducing  contemporary  or  general  life  is 
wonderful;  that  he  should  have  the  faculty  of 
reproducing  past  life  is  wonderful  still  more.  But 
that  he  should  thus  revive  the  past  and  preserve 
the  present — command  and  provide  at  once  theatre 
and  company,  audience  and  performance — this  is 
the  highest  wizardry  of  all.  And  this,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  is  what  Thackeray  had  attempted,  and 

'  *  Biographia    Literaria,'    ch.    x.     Coleridge    says    he 
coined  it  from  eif  tV  ■nxk'wia, — to  shape  into  one. 


The  Oxford  Thackeray  283 

more,  what  he  has  done,  in  the  History  of  Henry 
Esmond.^ 

A  good  illustration  and  confirmation  of  this 
fine  and  discriminating  criticism  would  be  to 
contrast  the  history  of  Queen  Anne's  Colonel 
with — let  us  say — such  a  book  as  Sala's  'Adven- 
tures of  Captain  Dangerous,'  also  an  attempt  at 
historical  construction  in  old-fashioned  language. 
Its  author  had  a  wonderful  verbal  memory,  great 
descriptive  power,  and  an  unrivalled  faculty  for 
what  he  called  the  stocktaking  of  detail.  But 
although  his  theme  was  perhaps  suggested  by 
'  Esmond,'  he  did  not  possess  that  higher  imagi- 
nation which  is  prefigured  by  the  epithet  of 
Coleridge;  and  his  work  in  consequence  remains 
rather  the  costume  and  tongue  of  the  time  than 
the  time  itself.  Nevertheless,  '  Captain  Danger- 
ous' is  a  very  respectable  and  unduly  neglected 
pasticho  in  the  manner  of  Defoe,  with  a  dash  of 
Tom  Brown  and  the  'London  Spy.'^  In  the 
matter  of  those  kindred  volumes  to  '  Esmond,' 
the  'English  Humourists'  and  the  'Four Georges,' 

'  The  attempt  of  Damiens  on  Louis  XV  j  the  story  of 
'Mother  Drum,' the  female  soldier j  and  the  picture  of 
London  in  the  '45,  with  the  tragical  episode  of  Shenstone's 
Jemmy  Dawson,  are  favourable  examples  of  the  Sala 
manner. 


284  The  Oxford  Thackeray 

Mr.  Saintsbury  is,  as  it  seems  to  us,  equally  sound. 
He  admits  that,  in  the  former  instance,  fuller 
knowledge  may  have  modified  some  of  the  traits; 
and  he  admits  also  a  certain  severity  of  attitude 
to  Sterne  and  Swift.  But  he  rightly  lays  stress  on 
the  extraordinary  vitality  and  stimulating  quality 
of  the  general  criticism  as  things  in  their  kind 
more  material  than  an  unreasoned  sympathy,  and 
more  important  than  a  too  curious  attention 
to  the  mere  cocked  hat  and  buttons  of  fact.  In 
the  same  way,  as  regards  the  '  Four  Georges,'  he 
is  conscious  of  an  undue  undervaluing  of  George 
III,  and  even  of  a  sort  of  injustice  to  his  unpopu- 
lar successor;  but  here  again  he  insists  on  the 
value  of  the  volume  as  a  quintessential  extract  of 
the  contemporary  social  life  of  the  day,  as  revealed 
in  its  memoirs  and  correspondence.  In  short, 
while  he  professes  that  he  is  by  no  means  a 
'Thackeray-right-or- wrong'  man,  he  is,  'on  this 
side  idolatry,'  an  indulgent  admirer,  whose  critical 
motto  might  be  those  wise  words  of  Mr.  Burchell 
in  the  'Vicar  of  Wakefield':  'The  reputation 
of  books  is  raised,  not  by  their  freedom  from  de- 
fect; but  the  greatness  of  their  beauties.' 

A  novel  and  an  interesting  feature  of  the  latest 
Thackeray  is  the  Appendixes  which  preserve  the 
passages  rejected  by  the  author  in  his  final  revisions. 


The  Oxford  Thackeray  285 

These  have  often  given  trouble  to  readers  perplexed 
by  the  absence  of  something  vaguely  recollected. 
Mr.  Saintsbury's  edition  sets  all  this  right.  In 
'  Vanity  Fair,'  for  example,  he  reprints  at  the  end 
a  long  extract  from  the  first  version  of  the  Vaux- 
hall  chapter  (chapter  vi),  showing  how  that  in- 
cident might  have  been  treated  in  the  '  genteel '  or 
the  '  terrible '  style — for  which  we  should  doubt- 
less read  Bulweror  Ainsworth.  It  is  clever,  as  the 
author  is  always,  but  it  is  obviously  irrelevant,  as 
he  himself  decided.  From  '  Pendennis,' whose  even 
tenor  was  interrupted  by  illness,  the  omissions 
are  of  necessity  more  numerous,  and  uniformly 
judicious.  The  most  important  of  these  deal  with 
the  idle  Clavering  chatter  concerning  Helen  Pen- 
dennis and  Pen's  tutor,  Mr.  Smirke,  the  curate ; 
and  with  certain  traits  in  the  character  of  the 
hero's  evil  genius  at  Oxbridge, '  Captain  Macheath,' 
otherwise  Mr.  Bloundell-Bloundell,  Another  with- 
drawal— which  M.  Taine,  working  on  the  first 
edition,  has,  oddly  enough, selected  for  special  com- 
ment— is  that  relating  to  Blanche  Amory  and  her 
tyrannous  usage  of  her  poor  little  tiring-maid,  Pin- 
cott;  and  indeed  it  is  difficult  to  guess  why  the 
author  condemned  it,  seeing  that  it  is  quite  in 
keepingwith  the  'Sylphide's'otherfeline  character- 
istics. A  passage  relating  to  the  educational  short- 


286  The  Oxford  TJiackeray 

comings  of  the  Fotheringay  may  perhaps  have  been 
left  out  because,  in  addition  to  repetition  of  things 
said  previously,  it  included  a  joke  about  Dante's 
having  been  born  at  Algiers,  already  assigned,  in 
the '  Book  of  Snobs,'  to  the  Pontes'  governess.  Miss 
Wirt.  Another  large  excision  in  chapter  xlv  deals 
with  Love  and  Mr.  Foker.  There  are  also  endless 
minor  readjustments  and  corrections  which  prove 
how  carefully  a  writer,  who  is  sometimes  accused 
of  negligence,  revised  his  utterances.  As  the  tale 
of  novels  lengthens,  the  suppressions  grow  fewer 
Little  that  is  material  is  taken  from  'Esmond';  and 
beyond  a  high-life  anecdote,  also  in  the  '  Book  of 
Snobs,'  telling  rather  against  Miss  Ethel,  not  much 
from  '  The  Newcomes.'  In  '  The  Virginians'  the 
cutting  is  confined  to  sundry  digressive  addresses, 
there  more  frequent  than  elsewhere.  But  no  at- 
tentive reader  will  wish  to  be  without  knowledge 
of  these  and  other  matters,  or  of  the  minute  and 
even  microscopic  evidence  they  afford  of  the  pains 
which  Thackeray  devoted  to  the  text  of  his  more 
serious  productions. 

Although  Mr.  Saintsbury  has  been  careful  to 
furnish  each  work  with  its  needful  bibliographical 
foreword,  he  has  not  thought  it  desirable,  nor  was 
it  within  his  commission,  to  append  illustrative 
notes  to  his  text.    For  this,  apart  from  the  mere 


The  Oxford  Thackeray  287 

printer's  argument  that  they  spoil  the  page,  there 
are  of  course  sufficient  reasons ;  and  moreover, 
from  an  editor  who  has  given  so  much,  it  would 
be  grasping  to  ask  for  more.  But  the  re-reading 
of  Thackeray  to-day  brings  forcibly  to  mind  the 
dictum  of  Johnson  that  *  in  sixty  or  seventy  years, 
or  less,  all  works  which  describe  manners,  require 
notes.'  He  might  have  said  '  places '  as  well  as 
'  manners.'  Who  now  knows,  for  example,  the  site 
of  Old  Slaughter's  CofFee-house,  whence  George 
Osborne  went  forth,  in  a  blue  coat  and  bufFwaist- 
coat,  to  marry  the  infatuated  Amelia;  and  how 
many  can  recollect  Pendennis's  '  Back  Kitchen  ' 
— the  Cider  Cellars  in  Maiden  Lane!  We  should 
not  be  sorry  to  have  a  note — not  a  footnote,  but 
a  note  at  the  end  of  the  book  like  the  longer  notes 
to  Scott's  novels — giving  some  record  of  that  'mur- 
murous '  old  supper-haunt,  with,  if  possible,  a  copy 
of  the  design  from  Doyle's  'Mr.  Pips  hys  Diary,' 
representing  a  s6ance  just  'sixty  years  since.'  And 
the  ham-and-beef  shop  in  St.  Martin's  Court !  This, 
too,  has  long  vanished.  But  the  fact  that  it  figures 
in  chapter  i  of  '  Catherine,'  where  it  is  as  much  a 
symbol  of  sempiternity  as  Matthew  Arnold's  '  crush 
at  the  corner  of  Fenchurch  Street' — surely  this 
warrants  a  passing  comment,  especially  when  it  is 
remembered  that,  even  on  the  top  of  Skiddaw, 


288  The  Oxford  Thackeray 

Charles  Lamb  found  it  necessary  to  recall  it  in  order 
to  rectify  his  over-strained  sensations!  Then,  in 
another  way,  there  is  '  The  Rose  and  the  Ring,' 
of  which  delectable  extravaganza  Mr.  Saintsbury 
writes  with  becoming  enthusiasm.  Lady  Ritchie 
has  recently  told  us  that  the  first  scheme  included 

J 

a  malevolent  Fairy  Hopstick,  afterwards  discarded.^ 
This  is  perhaps  too  minute  a  matter  for  the  kind 
of  annotation  we  have  in  mind,  though  it  is  worth 
mention.  We  were  thinking  ratherof  those  pleasant 
verses  which,  in  1864,  the  late  Frederick  Locker 
composed  about  the  writing  of  the  book,  and  the 
*  nice  little  Story'  connected  with  it — to  wit,  the 
invalid  daughter  of  the  American  sculptor,  W.  W. 
Story,  to  whom,  at  Rome,  the  author  read  his 
manuscript  as  it  progressed,  and  to  whom  also  he 
subsequentlypresented  a  copy  of  the  printedvolume 
with  a  *  comical  little  croquis ': 

A  sketch  of  a  rather  droll  couple, 

She's  pretty,  he's  quite  t'other  thing! 

He  begs  (with  a  spine  vastly  supple) 

She  will  study  '  The  Rose  and  the  Ring.' 

In  the  illustrated  edition  of '  London  Lyrics,'  there 
is  a  picture  by  Doyle  of  the  'kind  wizard'  at  the 
sick  child's  sofa,  holding  his  paper  close  to  his  eyes 

'  '  Blackstick  Papers,'  1908,  p.  2. 


The  Oxford  Thackeray  289 

as  he  does  in  the  portrait  by  Samuel  Laurence. 
But  these  and  other  cognate  memorabilia  were 
not  part  of  Mr.  Saintsbury's  plan,  and  must  of 
necessity  fall  to  his  successors.  It  is  all  he  has  left 
them  to  do ! 


U 


'If' 


the  prison  of  the  temple 
(from  clery's  'journal') 


APPENDIX  A 

The  Prison  of  the  Temple 

THE  locality  at  Paris  known  as  the  Temple  was 
so  called  from  the  Knights  Templars,  to  whom 
it  originally  belonged  ;  and  from  whom,  on  their  sup- 
pression by  Philip  of  Valois  in  1312,  it  was  handed 
over  to  tKe  Knights  of  the  Order  of  St.  John  of  Jeru- 
salem, later  known  as  the  Knights  of  Malta.  In 
August  1792  it  consisted  of  a  heterogeneous  group 
of  buildings,  which,  roughly  speaking,  occupied  the 
angle  formed  by  the  present  Boulevard  du  Temple 
and  the  Rue  du  Temple.  These  comprised  a  Palace 
which,  up  to  1789,  had  been  occupied  by  the  King's 
brother,  the  Comte  d'Artois,  in  his  capacity  of 
Grand  Prior  of  the  Knights  of  Malta;  a  Church, 
shortly  to  be  demolished  ;  a  large  Rotunda  or  Market, 
and  the  Tower,  or  more  accurately  Towers,  sub- 
sequently used  by  the  Commune  as  the  prison  of 
Louis  XVI  and  his  family.  The  larger  or  Great 
Tower  had  been  originally  intended  as  a  keep  or 
fortress  for  the  adjacent  property;  the  lesser  or 
Little  Tower,  which   abutted  upon   it   to  the   left, 

291 


292  Appendix  A 

was  a  much  more  recent  construction.  Both  struc- 
tures had  been  employed  in  different  ways  to  the 
outbreak  of  the  Revolution,  at  which  date  the  Great 
Tower  was  out  of  repair,  and  the  Little  Tower  was 
tenanted  by  the  archivist  of  the  Order,  who  vacated 
it  when  it  was  requisitioned  as  a  place  of  confine- 
ment. The  royal  family  occupied  it  from  13th  August 
1792  until  they  were  moved  to  the  Great  Tower. 
Here  is  Clery's  account,  which  his  two  plans  and 
general  view,  not  always  included  in  reprints  of  his 
book,  make  easily  intelligible.  The  version  is  that  of 
Dallas,  slightly  modified : 

'  It  [the  Little  Tower]  stood  with  its  back  against 
the  Great  Tower,  without  any  interior  communi- 
cation, and  formed  a  long  square,  flanked  by  two 
turrets.  In  one  of  these  turrets,  there  was  a  narrow 
staircase  that  led  from  the  first  floor  to  a  gallery  on 
the  platform :  in  the  other  were  small  rooms  answer- 
ing to  each  story  of  the  Tower. 

'  The  body  of  the  building  was  four  stories  high. 
The  first  consisted  of  an  antechamber,  a  dining- 
room,  and  a  small  room  in  the  turret,  where  there 
was  a  library  containing  from  twelve  to  fifteen  hun- 
dred volumes. 

*  The  second  story  (A)  was  divided  nearly  in  the 
same  manner.  The  largest  room  was  the  Queen's 
bed-chamber,  in  which  the  Dauphin  also  slept ;  the 
second,  which  was  separated  from  the  Queen's  by  a 


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Appendix  A  293 

small  antechamber  almost  without  light,  was  occupied 
by  Madame  Royale  and  Madame  Elizabeth.  .  .  . 

'The  King's  apartments  were  on  the  third  story  (B). 
He  slept  in  the  great  room,  and  made  a  study  of  the 
turret-closet.  There  was  a  kitchen  separated  from  the 
King's  chamber  by  a  small  dark  room,  which  had 
been  successively  occupied  by  M.  de  Chamilly  and 
M.  Hu'e\  and  on  which  the  seals  were  now  fixed. 
The  fourth  story  was  shut  up;  and  on  the  ground 
floor  there  were  kitchens,  of  which  no  use  was  made." 

As  the  previous  occupier  had  been  obliged  to 
leave  his  belongings  behind,  when  he  received  orders 
to  quit  from  the  Municipality,  the  above  apartments 
were  fairly  furnished.  The  King  remained  in  them 
until  the  29th  September  1792,  when  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  Great  Tower.  At  the  end  of  October 
the  Queen  and  her  family  followed  him.  Clery  gives 
a  minute  account  of  the  'new  habitation  '  as  follows; 
the  figures  between  brackets  being  references  to  the 
plans  at  pp.  293  and  295  : 

*  The  great  Tower  is  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high,  and  consists  of  four  stories  arched,  and  sup- 
ported by  a  great  pillar  from  the  bottom  to  the  top. 
The  area  within  the  walls  was  about  thirty  feet 
square. 

'The    second    and    third   stories    allotted  to    the 

*  The  meals  of  the  prisoners  were  brought  from  the 
kitchens  of  the  Palace  of  the  Temple. 


294  Appendix  A 

Royal  Family,  being,  as  were  all  the  other  stories, 
single  rooms,  they  were  now  each  divided  into  four 
chambers  by  partitions  of  board.  The  ground  floor 
was  for  the  use  of  the  Municipal  Officers ;  the  first 
story  was  kept  as  a  guard  room,  and  the  King  was 
lodged  in  the  second. 

'The  first  room  of  his  apartments  was  an  ante- 
chamber (i),  from  which  three  doors  led  to  three 
separate  rooms.  Opposite  the  entrance  was  the  King's 
chamber  (2),  in  which  a  bed  was  placed  for  the 
Dauphin ;  mine  was  on  the  left  (3) ;  so  was  the 
dining-room  (4)  which  was  divided  from  the  ante- 
chamber by  a  glazed  partition.  There  was  a  chimney 
in  the  King's  chamber  :  the  other  rooms  were  warmed 
by  a  great  stove  in  the  antechamber.  The  light  was 
admitted  into  each  of  these  rooms  by  windows,  but 
those  were  blocked  up  with  great  iron  bars,  and 
slanting  screens  on  the  outside  [see  plate,  p.  291], 
which  prevented  a  free  circulation  of  the  air :  the 
embrasures  of  the  windows  were  nine  feet  thick. 

'  Every  story  of  the  great  Tower  communicated 
with  four  turrets,  built  at  the  angles. 

'In  one  of  those  turrets  was  a  staircase  (5)  that 
went  up  as  far  as  the  battlements,  and  on  which 
wickets  were  placed  at  certain  distances  to  the  num- 
ber of  seven.  This  staircase  opened  on  every  floor 
through  two  gates :  the  first  of  oak,  very  thick  and 
studded  with  nails,  the  second  of  iron. 


f/1 

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Appendix  A  295 

'Another  of  the  turrets  (6)  formed  a  closet  to  the 
King's  chambei;  the  third  served  for  a  '■'■  garderobe'" 
(7),  and  in  the  fourth  (8)  was  kept  the  fire-wood, 
where  also  the  temporary  beds,  on  which  the  Muni- 
cipal Officers  slept  near  the  King,  were  deposited 
in  the  day  time. 

'The  four  rooms,  of  which  the  King's  apartments 
consisted,  had  a  false  ceiling  of  cloth  \toile\  and 
the  partitions  were  hung  with  a  coloured  paper.  The 
antechamber  had  the  appearance  of  the  interior  of 
a  jail,  and  on  one  of  the  panels  was  hung  the  De- 
claration of  the  Rights  of  Man,^  in  very  large  characters 
with  a  tri-coloured  frame.  A  chest  of  drawers,  a 
small  bureau,  four  chairs  with  cushions,  an  armed 
chair,  a  few  rush-bottomed  chairs,  a  table,  a  glass 
over  the  chimney,  and  a  green  damask  bed,  were  all 
the  furniture  of  the  King's  chamber :  these  articles 
as  well  as  what  was  in  the  other  rooms,  were  taken 
from  the  Temple  Palace.  The  King's  bed  was  that 
in  which  the  Count  (C Artois'  Captain  of  the  Guard 
used  to  sleep. 

'  The  Queen  occupied  the  third  story,  which  was 
distributed  in  much  the  same  manner  as  the  King's. 
The  bed-chamber  for  the  Queen  (9)  and  Madame 
Royale  was  above  his  Majesty's:  in  the  turret  (10) 
was  their  dressing-room.     Madame  Elizabeth's  room 

^  Upon  which  the  King's  comment  was:  'That  would 
be  very  fine  if  it  were  practicalile  '  (Corel's  Narrati've). 


296  Appendix  A 

(i  i)  was  over  mine  [Clery's].  The  entrance  served  for 
an  antechamber  (12)  where  the  Municipal  Officers 
watched  by  day  and  slept  at  night.  Ttson  and  his 
wife  were  lodged  over  the  King's  dining-room  (13). 

'The  fourth  story  was  not  occupied.  A  gallery  ran 
all  along  within  the  battlements  which  sometimes 
served  as  a  walk.  The  embrasures  were  stopt  up  with 
blinds,  to  prevent  the  Family  from  being  seen.' 

It  was  in  the  little  dining-room,  No.  4  on  the 
second  story,  that  the  King  spent  his  last  hours  with 
his  family  on  the  night  of  the  20th  January  1793; 
but  the  final  parting  pictured  by  Clery  for  Mrae. 
Lebrun,  and  referred  to  at  p.  265,  must  have  taken 
place  in  the  adjoining  antechamber  (No.  i). 


cx^i'-'^'^  art   ctl't   •/-tt)(U,JUf  ItCiii-il  flif^  ijf^n^i'tf^t^ 


tou.  mxTu   oxur.  m.r.  Sm>  Co^iUf  •    J 

"    fZ/'  fainitie  ^      «      Jt     U    fafhcncg.,    ,frt      rf,t,i,t,      ^ 

yauj-    J- t>ej     f,       Jt     yo^tJ       ^nie  ^    Jt      Vuttj         *f»»rnjje       J^       Tj 

FACSIMILE  OF  THE  NOTE  TO  THE  COMTE 

(from  CLf 


(2) 


a-uctttf  troii-^^  e^uAui  tm  ntoi/Cii     de  cvti/ier  e 
ch^J  t^  //'^t   Vieitt^t  (ill,  ocii'l^e,',  f^f  en  Jt^ilt  '?e  i 


FACSIMILE  OF  THE  NOTE  TO  THE  COM' 

(FROM  CD 


ii^  entire- j_gj    tnuL/tj,    U yj4f^rjUiti'    Pi>uj  Jif\ 


m^i 


4  ..^.,  I      Voir     Aei(u/,iXL-       ejf       fonf    cc    i/t,e  jt      c^tJcrm, 


/"V 


IPROVENCE  WHICH  ACCOMPANIED  THE  SEAL 

'journal') 


'\fi'f  cru  fi^  ue^a J  je rJt.^    /I'ni^ ijf  5 o- *w r cjn i^i^u c 

•ti      i'\  t  n       clitr      *'"«,    iiitf*    ^tre      «'*    p0iit>»iir-    ^ji  r-»^      um     j i. 
.«/5       nut.     j'til  Jtt*/t^f-      po.il'    ♦V'c-J.'    «/*        ^.kJ      r>,.<\J^,^ 


i'artois  which  accompanied  the  ring 
5  'journal') 


APPENDIX  B 

The  Last  Messages 

THE  ring  and  seal  referred  to  at  p.  269  n.  were 
accompanied  by  joint  notes  from  the  senders, 
of  which  the  accompanying  are  Clery's  facsimiles. 
The  encircling  line  indicates  the  limits  of  the  scraps 
of  paper  on  which  they  were  written.  The  first, 
to  the  Comte  de  Provence,  which  went  with  the  seal, 
was  signed  by  the  Queen,  Mme  Royale,  the  Dauphin, 
and  the  Princess  Elizabeth;  the  other,  to  the  Comte 
d'Artois,  was  signed  by  Marie  Antoinette  alone, 
though  part  of  it  is  in  the  autograph  of  her  sister-in- 
law.  The  following  is  Dallas's  translation  of  these 
documents: 

*  Having  a  faithful  being,  on  whom  we  can  rely,  I 
make  use  of  the  occasion  to  send  my  dear  brother 
and  friend  this  charge,  which  can  only  be  trusted  to 
his  hands;  the  bearer  will  tell  you  by  what  a  miracle 
we  have  been  able  to  get  possession  of  these  precious 
pledges.  1  reserve  it  to  myself  to  tell  you  one  day 
the  name  of  him  who  is  so  useful  to  us.  The  im- 
possibility we  have  hitherto  experienced  of  being 
able  to  send  you  any  tidings,  and  the  excess  of  our 

297 


298  Appendix  B 

misfortunes,  make  us  feel  still  more  deeply  our  cruel 
separation — may  it  not  be  long  !  I  salute  you  in  the 
mean  time  as  I  love  you,  and  that  you  know  is  with 
all  my  heart.  M.A.  I  am  charged  for  my  brother 
and  myself  to  say  we  love  you  with  all  our  hearts, 
M.  T. — Louis.  I  enjoy  by  anticipation  the  pleasure 
you  will  experience  in  receiving  this  token  of  friend- 
ship and  confidence.  To  be  reunited  with  you,  and 
to  see  you  happy,  is  all  I  wish.  You  know  whether 
I  love  you  or  not.  I  salute  you  with  all  my  heart. 
E.  M.' 

The  other  (with  the  ring)  runs  as  follows :  'Having 
at  last  found  a  means  of  confiding  to  our  brother 
one  of  the  only  pledges  we  have  remaining  of  the 
being  whom  we  cherish,  and  for  whom  we  all  weep, 
I  thought  you  would  be  pleased  to  have  something 
that  comes  from  him.  Keep  it  in  token  of  the  most 
tender  friendship  with  which  from  my  heart  I  salute 
you.  M.  A.  What  a  happiness  it  is  to  me,  my  dear 
friend,  my  brother,  that  I  am  able  after  so  long  an  in- 
terval of  time,  to  tell  you  all  the  pangs  I  have  suffered 
for  you !  A  time  will  come  I  hope  when  I  shall  be 
able  to  embrace  you,  and  tell  you  that  you  will 
never  find  a  truer  or  tenderer  friend  than  I  am :  I 
hope  you  don't  doubt  it.' 

These  notes  must  have  been  written  at  some  date 
between  the  King's  death  in  January,  and  that  of  the 
Queen,  i6th  October  1793. 


GENERAL  INDEX 


N.B. — The  titles  of  articles  are  in  capitals 


Abercorn,  Lord,  230. 
Abrahams,Mr.  Aleck,  23  in. 
Academy  of  Ancient   Music, 

Hawkins  on,  127. 
Adam,  Robert,  211. 
Addison,  Joseph,  14,   135, 

14.8,  14.9,  150. 
Ad'vice  to  a  Lady^   Lyttel- 

ton's,  181,  182. 
Albert  Memorial,  25. 
Alcove(  Marlborough  Gate), 

15- 

Alexander  I,  Emperor,  loi. 

Alexandrina,  Grand  Duch- 
ess, lOI. 

Allen,  Ralph,  206. 

Almon  of  Piccadilly,  227. 

Anecdotes,  Miss  L.  M.  Haw- 
kins's, 115  n,  117  n. 

Anecdotes  of  Painting,  Wal- 
pole's,  214. 

Angelis,  Peter  de,  14. 

Angouleme,  Duchesse  d', 
90,  266. 


Animated  Nature,  Gold- 
smith's, 48. 

Ann  Boleyn  to  Henry  Fill, 
Whitehead's,  148. 

Anne,  Queen,  5,  7,  11-16. 

Ansbach,  Margravine  of 
(Lady  Craven),  io6. 

Appendix  A  (The  Prison 
of  the  Temple),  291-6. 

Appendix  B  (The  Last 
Messages),  297-8. 

Arne,  Dr.,  59. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  26,  287. 

Arnold's  Kensington  Gar- 
dens, 26. 

Artois,  M.  d'  (Charles  X), 
87,  106,  291,  295,  297. 

"Atossa,"(Duchessof  Marl- 
borough), 1 1 . 

Atys  and  Adrastus,  White- 
head's, 148. 

Audinet,  Philip,  viii,  i2on. 

Augusta,  Princess,  212, 
214. 


299 


300 


General  Index 


Autobiography,      Gibbon's, 

196. 
Austen,  Jane,  280. 
Ayscough,  Dr.,  179,  185. 


Bacon,  John,  236. 

Balguy,  Dr.,  146. 

Balzac,  Honore  de,  281. 

Banqueting  House  at  White- 
hall, I  n. 

Barber,  Francis,  132. 

Baretti,  Joseph,  220,  231  n., 
237. 

Barry,  Spranger,  153. 

Bartolozzi,  Francis,  211. 

Bateman,  Richard,  212  n. 

Batz,  Baron  de,  256. 

Beauclerk,  Topham,  128. 

Beaujolais,  Comte  de,  106. 

Beaux'    Stratage?n,    Farqu- 
har's,  66. 

Bellenden,  Madge,  24.. 

Bellenden,  Mary,  24. 
'      Bentinck,  William,  9. 

Bernini,  Chevalier,  210. 

Berri,  Due  de,  106. 

Berryer  the  Elder,  no. 

Berrys,  The  Miss,  82. 

Bessborough,  Earl  of,  230. 

Bessborough  House,  218. 

Biilington,  Mrs.,  107. 


Biographia  Literaria,  Cole- 
ridge's, 166,  282,  283. 
Bishop  of  Dromore  (Percy), 

28,  32. 
Blackstick      Papers,      Lady 

Ritchie's,  288  n. 
Blenheim,  Lyttelton's,  177. 
Bolingbroke,  12,  23. 
Bonaparte,  Mme.,  104. 
Boothbys  of  Tooley  Park, 

The,  79. 
Borrow,  George,  34. 
Boswell,  James,  69, 113,1 14, 
I30,i32n.,i34,i36,226. 
Boucher,  Fran9ois,  215  n. 
'Boulanger'     and     '  Bou- 

langere,'  96. 
Bourbon,  Due  de,  106. 
Boutin,  M.,  93. 
Boyd,  Dr.  Henry,  50. 
Bretherton,  James,  45. 
Bridgeman,  25. 
Bristol  Spring,  Ode  /o,  White- 
head's, 155. 
Broad  Walk  at  Kensington, 

Brown,  Lancelot,  221,  225. 
Browne,  Hawkins,  58. 
Browne,  Moses,  118. 
Bryanton,    Bob    (of  Bally- 

mulvey),  43,  44,  46. 
Buckhurst,  Lord,  8. 


General  Index 


301 


Bulwer,  E.  L.,  277,  280. 
Bunbury,  H.  W.,  45. 
Burke,  Edmund,  128,  129, 

208,  231. 
Bumet,  Bishop,  9,  10. 
Burney,  Dr.  Charles,   113, 

126,  198  n.,  236,  268. 
Burney,  Fanny  (Mme.  D' 

Arblay),  19,41,  1 12,  1 14, 

142,  268,  269. 
Burns,  Robert,  29. 
Burton,  Dr.,  144,  147. 

Callcott,  Dr.  J.  W.,  127. 
Caionne,  C.  A.,  the  Con- 

troleur  General,  94,  107. 
Cambridge,  Richard  Owen, 

160. 
Camden,  Lord,  68. 
Camilla,  Burney's,  269  n. 
Campan,  Mme.,  104. 
Campbell,  Dr.  Thomas,  50, 

Canning,  George,  276. 
Captain  D anger ous,   Sala's, 

283. 
Carmarthen,  Marquess  of,  6. 
Caroline  of  Ansbach,    17, 

21,  22. 
Caroline  of  Brunswick,  26. 
Carr,  John,  212. 
Carrington  House,  230  n. 


Carteret,  Lord,  23. 
Castle  of  Indolence,  Thom- 
son's, 199. 
Catalani,  Mme.,  108. 
Catharine  II,  99,  100,  loi. 
Cavendish,  Lord  John,  1 59. 
Chambers,  Lady,  237. 
Chambers,Sir  William,  207- 

37- 

Chambers    the    Archi- 
tect, 207-37. 

Chamier,  Andrew,  128. 

Champcenetz,  Chevalier  de, 

Chapeau    de    Faille,    Mme. 

Lebrun's,  83,  90. 
Chapeau    de    Faille    (Foil), 

Rubens's,  83,  90. 
Charge  to  the  Poets,  White- 
head's, 165,  167. 
Charlemont,    James   Coul- 

field,  Earl  of,  205  n.,  219, 

230,  237. 
Charles  II,  1,  2. 
Chatterton,    Thomas,    30, 

48,  49. 
Chenevix,  Mrs.,  i56n. 
Chesterfield,  Lord,  17,  23, 

56n., 134,167, i79n.,2o6. 
Chinese  fashion.  The,  156. 
Chinese  Letters,  Goldsmith's, 


302 


General  Index 


Chodowiecki,  Daniel,  266n. 

Choiseul-Gouffier,  Comte 
de,  loo, 

Chorley,  H.  F.,  82  n. 

Churchill,  Charles,  1 67, 168. 

Cibber,  Mrs.,  54,  58,  164. 

Cibbers,  The,  55. 

Cicero,  Obser'-uations  on  the 
Life  of,  Lyttelton's,  182. 

Cider  Cellars,  287. 

Cipriani,  J.  B.,  211,  215. 

Citize/t  of  the  World,  Gold- 
smith's, 43,  185. 

Cfvil  Architecture,  Cham- 
bers's, 213. 

Clandestine  Marriage,  Col- 
man  and  Garrick's,  64, 
65. 

Clare,  Lord,  75. 

Clerisseau,    Charles- Louis, 

ZII. 

Clerk,  Sir  John, of  Penicuik, 

13- 

Clery  (Jean-Baptiste    Cant- 

Hanet),  238-270. 
Clery,  Mme.,  248,  257,  262. 
Clary's    Journal,    238- 

270. 
Clive,  Lord,  221. 
Clive,  Mrs.,  164. 
Club,  The,  37,  39,  128. 
Cole,  The  antiquary,  125. 


Coleridge,  S.  T.,  30,   166, 
282. 

Collins,  Benjamin,  47. 

Colvin,  Mr.  Sidney,  1640. 

Come  die  larnioy  ante,  163. 

Come  die  mixte,  163. 

Compleat  Angler,  Chronicle  of 
the,  Westwood's,  120. 

Complot  sous  la  Terreur,  Gau- 
lot's,  257. 

Congreve,  William,  194. 

Conversion  of  St.  Paul,  Lyt- 
telton's, 174,  199. 

Cook,  William,  134. 

Costigan,  Captain,  2  74n. 

Cotton,  Charles,  116,  119. 

Coucy-le-Chateau,  253-4. 

Coucy,  Raoul  de,  253  n. 

Courthope,  Mr.  W.  J.,  186. 

Cradock,  Joseph,  53-81. 

Cramer,  the  Elder,  91. 

Craven,  Lady,  106. 

Croker,  J.  W.,  142,  173. 

Cruikshank,   George,  272, 
273. 

Cubieres,  Dorat-,  93,  250-1. 

Cubieres,  Marquisde,  93,94. 

Cumberland,  Richard,  63. 

Cupola  Room  at  Kensing- 
ton, 18. 

D'Alembert,  86. 


General  Index 


303 


Dallas,  R.  C,  267. 
Danger  of  Writing  Verses, 

Whitehead's,    147,    148, 

165. 
Danjou,  J.  P.  A.,  244. 
D'Arblay,   Mme.,   70,   82, 

142,  268,  269. 
Daujon,  244,  245,  246,  247. 
Dauphin,The  (Louis  XVII), 

240,  258. 
Davies,   Thomas,    64,    69, 

71.  154- 
Death  of  Leonardo,  Mena- 

geot's,  95. 
Deffand,  Mme.  du,  82. 
Delany,  Mrs.,  19,  82. 
Delille,  Abbe,  91,  104. 
Designs  of  Chinese  Buildings, 

Chambers's,  213. 
Desmoulins,  Mrs,,  73. 
De'vil    upon     Two     Sticks, 

Foote's,  60. 
Devonshire,  Duke  of,  1 60. 
Dial  Walk  at  Kensington, 

16. 
Dialogues  of  the  Dead,  Ly  ttel- 

ton's,  163  n,  174,  191-3. 
Dilettanti  Club,  220,  237. 
Disraeli,  Benjamin,  280. 
Doddridge,  Philip,  195. 
Dodington,  Bubb,  197. 
Dodsley,  Robert,  46. 


Dodsley's  London,  etc.,  20  n., 


22. 


Dorset,  Earl  of  (Lord  Cham- 
berlain), 8. 

Doughty,  William,  170. 

Douglas,  Sir  George,  32. 

Doyle,  Richard,  272,  273. 

Drawing  Room  at  Kensing- 
ton, 18. 

Drouais,  Jean-Germain,  97. 

Du  Barry,  Mme.,  104,  109. 

Duchesnois,  Mile.,  108. 

Ducis,  Jean-Francois,  104. 

Duck,  Stephen,  225. 

Dyer,  Samuel,  113,  114, 
128. 


Edgeworth,  Abbe,  262. 

Edinburgh  Ball,  White- 
head's, 151. 

Edivin  and  Angelina^  Gold- 
smith's, 29,  36,  73,  74. 

EdiAjin  Drood,  Dickens's, 
129. 

Elegy,  Gray's,  improved,  74. 

Elizabeth  Broivnrigge,  276. 

7- 
Elizabeth,  Grand  Duchess, 

lOI. 

Elizabeth,     Princess,    241, 

253. 


304 


General  Index 


Enghien,  Due  d',  io6. 
English    Garden,    Mason's, 

221. 

Esmond,  Thackeray's,  28  2-  3 . 

Essay  on  the  Origin  of  the 

English     Stage,    Percy's, 

39- 
Esterhazy,  99,  100. 

"  Est-il-possible?  "  (George 

of  Denmark),  i  3. 

Estimate,  Brown's,  157. 

E--velina,  Burney's,  269 n. 

Evelyn,  John,  1,4,  6,  10. 

Farmer's  Return,  Garrick's, 
i64n. 

"Fame    Machine,"    Gold- 
smith's, 54. 

Fasciculus  Johanni  IV.  Clark 
die  at  us,  165  n. 

Felixmarte      of     Hircania, 
Ubeda's,  36. 

Fergusson,  James,  232. 

Ferrers,      Earl,      Laurence 

Shirley,  54. 
^Fidelia;   or,  the  Pre-valence 
of  Fashion,  58. 

FieldingjHenry,  175,201-2, 

279- 

Fiennes,  Celia,  4. 

Finch,  Daniel,  Earl  of  Not- 
tingham, 3. 


Fitzgerald,  Mr.  Percy,  55  n. 

Fitzgerald,  Pamela,  95. 

Fitzherbert,  Mrs.,  108. 

Fleury,  Abbe,  86,  179. 

Foote,  Samuel,  54,  59,  64. 

Formal  Garden,  Blomfield 
and  Thomas's,  1 5  n. 

Formian  Villa  at  Kings- 
gate,  Lord  Holland's,65n. 

Forster,  John,  42,  44,  45, 

53.  "9- 
Fortescue,  Miss  Lucy  (Mrs. 

Lyttelton),  186,  193  n. 
Fourment,  Susanna,  83  n. 
Fox,  C.  J.,  39,  107,  186  n., 

268. 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales, 

198. 
Frederick  the  Great,  19, 
"Freeman,  Mrs.,"  11. 
"  Friar    of  Orders    Gray," 

Percy's,  29. 
Friendship,     Whitehead's, 

155- 
Frowde,  Mr.  Henry,  271. 
Fumifugium,  Evelyn's,  2. 
Furnivall,  F.  J.,  31  n. 

Gamester,  Moore's,  107. 
Garat,  91. 

Garrick,  David,  54,  63,  64. 
68,70,72,  154,164,236. 


General  Index 


305 


Garrick,  Epistle  to.  White- 
head's, 151. 

Garrick,  Mrs.,  66. 

Gaussen,  Miss  Alice  C.  C, 
28,  32,  42,  44,  47,  53. 

Gay,  John,  24. 

Genlis,  Mme.  de,  84,  iii. 

Geoffrin,  Mme.,  91,  92  n. 

George  I,  4,  16,  17,  18. 

George  II,  4,  5,  6,  22,  26. 

George  III,  5,  212,  227. 

Georgeof  Denmark,  Prince, 

5,  13- 
Georgian  oratory,  137. 
Gerard,  Francois,  104. 
Gibbon,   Edward,   79,  196, 

208. 
Gibbons,  Grinling,  7. 
Gigoux,  Jean,  no. 
Girl   with  the  Muff,  Mme. 

Lebrun's,  83,  1 1 1. 
Girodet,  A.  L.,  97. 
Goafs  Beard,  Whitehead's, 

168. 
Gobeau,  26. 
Goldsmith  and  Percy,   28- 

52- 

Goldsmith     Memoir,    The, 

49-52. 
Goldsmith,   Oliver,   41-52, 
61,  62n.,  66,  73-8,  i79n., 
213,  227,  237. 


Good  Naturd  Man,  48,  63, 
164. 

Goret,  Charles,  252-6. 

Gostling,  Rev.  W.,  123. 

Gothic  fashion,  The,  156. 

Goupy,  Joseph,  216. 

Gower,  Earl,  230, 

Grainger,  Dr.  James,  46. 

Grammont  -  Caderousse, 
Duchesse  de,  89. 

Grand   Staircase   at  Kens- 
ington, 18. 

Grassini,  Mme.,  107. 

Gray,  Memoir  of.  Mason's, 
140. 

Gray,  Thomas,  33,  34,  80, 
14-7.  159.  >6o,  187. 

Great    Drawing    Room    at 
Kensington,  20,  22. 

'  Greek  Supper,'  Mme.  Le- 
brun's, 92. 

Green,  J.  R.,  197. 

Gretry,  A.  R.  M.,  91. 

Greuze,  Jean-Baptiste,   19, 
104. 

Griffiths,  Ralph,  44. 

Gros,  Baron,  J.  B.  L.,  1 10. 

Grosley,  Pierre-Jean,  2  t  5  n. 

Gunns,  The  Miss,  77. 

Gutteridge,      Miss      Anne 
(Mrs.  Percy),  35. 

Gwilt,  Joseph,  214,  232. 


X 


3o6 


General  Index 


♦Ha-Ha,'The,  25,  223. 

Hales,  Mr.  John  W.,  31  n. 

Hallam,  Henry,  197. 

Hamilton,  Lady,  98. 

Hamilton,  Sir  William,  98. 

Hampton  Court,  3,  15. 

Hampton,  Prince  of  Wales's 
Drawing  Room  at,  22. 

Hanbury,  Charles,  175. 

Hanbury  -  Williams,  Sir 
Charles,  175. 

Harcourt,  Lord,  156,  162. 

Hardwick,  Thomas,  214, 
230. 

Hare,  Augustus,  253  n. 

Harley,  Robert,  12. 

Harriot  Stuart,  Mrs.  Len- 
ox's, 131. 

Hart,  Emma  (Lady  Hamil- 
ton), 98. 

Hau  Kiou  Choaun,  Percy's, 

Haunch  of  Venison,  Gold- 
smith's, 45. 

Hawkins,  Admiral,  116. 

Hawkins,  Miss  L.  M.,  32  n., 
iisn.,  117,  133. 

Hawkins,  Sir  John,  112- 
139. 

Hawkins's  Life  of  "Johnson, 
134-8. 

Hayman,  Frank,  119. 


Hebert,  Jacques  Rene,  258. 
Helen,  Grand  Duchess,  i  o  i . 
Henrietta  of  Orleans,  i,  3. 
Henry  II  History  of,  Lyttel- 

ton's,  195. 
Henry  of  Prussia,  91. 
Hermes,  Harris's,  79. 
Hermitage,  The,  at   Rich- 
mond Lodge,  225. 
Hermit  of  WarHvorth,  Per- 
cy's, 29,  38,  72. 
Heroic      Epistle,      Familiar 
Epistle   to   the  Author  of 
the,  228. 
Heroic  Epistle,  Postscript  to 

the,  228. 
Heroic  Epistle  to  Sir  William 

Chafnbers,  222. 
Hervey,  Lady,  82. 
Hervey,  Lord,  20,  21,  23, 

24,  183,  204. 
Hill,  Dr.  Birkbeck,  68. 
Hill,  Dr.  John,  223. 
History  of  Henry  II,  Lyttel- 

ton's,  175,  195. 
History  of  Music,  Burney's, 

126,  127. 
History  of  Music,  Hawkins's, 

123-7. 
History  of  the  Church  in  the 
Eighteenth  Century,  Over- 
ton and  Belton's,  28. 


General  Index 


307 


Hobart,  Miss  (Lady  Suf- 
folk), 24. 

Hogarth,  William,  18,  21, 
16411. 

Hohenlohe,  Princess,  26411. 

Holland,  Charles,  59,  66. 

Holland,  Lord,  6511.,  175. 

Home,  John,  224. 

Hood,  Thomas,  121,  186. 

Horace,  Pine's,  145. 

Hough,  Bishop,  of  Wor- 
cester, 185. 

Hue  (or  Hue),  Fran(;ois, 
241,  293, 

Hulimandel,  91. 

Hume,  David,  196,  224. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  6,  8,  24. 

Hunt's  Old  Court  Suburb, 
24. 

Hurd,  Bishop,  54,  146. 

Idler,  Johnson's,  68. 
Installation  Ode,  Gray's,  80. 
Ionian  Antiquities,  220. 
Isola,  Emma,  129. 
Isted  of  Ecton,  Mr.,  39. 
Ivy    Lane    Club,  115,  118, 
130. 


James  I,  Poems  by,  71. 
James  II,  8. 


Jarjayes,  Chevalier  de,  257. 
Jealous      Wife,     Col  man's, 

64. 
Jerrold,  Mr.  Walter,  271. 
Jersey,  Earl  of,  150,  162. 
Jersey,  Lord  and  Lady,  141, 

162,  171. 
'  Jessamy  Bride,'  The  (Mrs. 

Gwyn),  45. 
Johnson,  Life  of,  Hawkins's, 

116. 
Johnson,  Samuel,  17,  29,  30 

3S>  37>+i.47,  50>  64,  70, 

71,  71,  735  113.  "4)  128, 

129.  i30>   «3i,  133,  137. 

139,  181,  182,  189,  191, 

213,  219,  223,  236. 
Jones,  Owen,  217. 
Journal  of   Occurrences   at 

the  Temple,  etc.,  Clary's, 

239. 

KaufFmann,  Angelica,  97. 
Kearsly,  George,  46. 
Kelly,  Hugh,  63. 
Kensington   Palace, 

Old,  1-27. 
Kent,  Duke   and    Duchess 

of,  26,  37. 
Kent,  William,  1 8,  25,  224. 
Kew  Temples,  The,  216-7. 
King,  Thomas,  65. 


3o8 


General  Index 


King's  Drawing  Room  at 
Kensington,  i8. 

King's  Gallery  at  Kensing- 
ton, 7,  26. 

King's  Privy  Chamber  at 
Kensington,  18. 

Knights  of  the  Garter,  In- 
stallation of,  Angelis',  14. 

Kouralcin,  Princess,  84. 

La  Briiyere,  Jean  de,  86. 
Lafayette,  Marquis  de,  263. 
Lamb,  Charles,  120,  288. 
Lamballe,Princesse  de,  242, 

243,  245. 
Landor,  W.  S.,  191. 
Langton,  Bennet,  128,  129, 

132. 
Latour,  the   pastellist,    84, 

21  5  n. 
Laureate    Whitehead, 

140-172. 
Law,  Mr.  Ernest,  15,  27. 
Lebrun,  M.,  86. 
\^t\>x\^x\-Pindare,  91,  93. 
Lee,  Nat.,  29. 
Lekain,  H    L.,  9  i. 
Le  Notre,  Andre,  5. 
Lenotre,  M.  G.,  238,   244, 

247,  *49>  252,  254. 
Lenox,  Mrs.  Charlotte,  130. 
Lepel,  Molly,  24. 


Lepitre,  Jacques-Francois, 
254,  256,  257. 

Lequeux,  the  architect,  2  54. 

Lesage,  Alain  Rene,  59. 

Letter  from  Xo  Ho,  Wal- 
pole's,  43. 

Letters  from  a  Persian  in 
England  to  his  Friend  at 
Ispahan, Lyttehon's,  183. 

Lettres  Persanes,  Montes- 
quieu's, 43. 

Lichtenstein,  Princess  of, 
99. 

Ligne,  Prince  de,  90. 

Literary  Club,  37,  39,  128. 

Literature  as  a  profession, 
166. 

Little  Dauphin,  Miss 
Welch's,  239. 

Li'ves  of  the  fo^/j,  Johnson's, 

175- 
Loftie,  Mr.  W.  J.,  16. 

London,  George,  5,  14,  25. 
London  L>'r/Vj,Locker's,288. 
London  smoke,  i,  2. 
Long,  or  King's  Gallery,  at 

Kensington,  8. 
Louis  XIV,  XV,  XVI,  and 

XVIII,  19. 
Louis  XV,  179. 
Louis   XVI,  238,  239,  240, 

247,  253,  260-3. 


General  Index 


309 


Louis  XVIII  (Comte  de 
Provence),  264,  270,  297. 

Louis  Philippe,  106. 

Lubomirski,  Prince,  94. 

Lucian,  The  Nenv,  Traill's, 
191. 

Lyttelton  as  Man  of 
Letters,  173-206. 

Lyttelton, Lord,  i63n.,  173- 
206. 

Lyttelton,  Mrs.,  186. 

Lyttelton,  Sir  Thomas,  175. 

Lyrical  Ballads,  Coleiidge 
and  Wordsworth's,  31. 

Lytton,  Lord,  on  Gold- 
smith, 74. 

Macaulay,   Lord,    7,     9  n., 

173. 
Mackiin,  Miss,  1 54. 
Macpherson,  James,  30,224. 
•  Madame  '    (Henrietta    of 

Orleans),  i,  3. 
Madame  Royale  (Duehesse 

d'Angouleme),  238,  240, 

263. 
Madame  Vigee-Lebrun, 

82-1 1 1. 
Maissin,     Jeanne       (Mme. 

Vig^e),  84. 
Malesherbes,  Lamoignon  de, 

255. 


Malone,  Edmund,  50,  113, 
125,  130,  132. 

Mansard,  Jules,  211. 

Manage  de  Figaro,  Beau- 
marchais',  81,  90. 

Marie  Antoinette,  88,  238, 
240,  243,  266. 

Marie  Antoinette,  Last  Days 
of,  Lenotre's,  244  n. 

Marias  at  Mi/iturna,  Drou- 
ais',  97. 

Marlborough,  Duke  of,  11, 
12. 

Marlborough,  Sarah,  Duch- 
ess of,  II,  177. 

Marmontel,  Jean-Francois, 
92  n. 

Marryat,  Frederick,  280. 

Mary,  Queen,  5,  6,  9. 

Mason,  William,  140,  141, 
143.  157,  159.  i62n., 
221,  226. 

Mathey  the  porter  of  the 
Temple,  254,  263. 

Meade,  Hon.  Pierce,  39. 

Meadows,  Kenny,  272. 

Memoires  Litteraires  de  la 
Grande  Bretag?ie,  Gib- 
bon's, 196. 

Memoirs,  Miss  L.  M.  Haw- 
kins's, 1 15  n. 

Memoir sof Lord  Lyttelton,  173. 


3IO 


General  Index 


M^nageot,  95,  97,  104. 

Merlin's  Cave,  225. 

Michelangelo,  210. 

Michelangelo's  Feiius,  20- 
22. 

Middleton,  Conyers,  183. 

Miller,  Lady,  of  Batheaston, 
36. 

Miller,  Sanderson,  202. 

Miscellaneous  Pieces  relating 
to  the  Chinese,  Percy's,  35. 

Mr.  Cradock  of  Gum- 
ley,  53-81. 

Mr.  Pips  hys  Diary,  Doyle's, 
287. 

Moelle,  Claud,  257-8. 

Monnoyer,  Jean-Baptiste, 
19. 

Monody  on  Mrs.  lyttelton, 
Lyttelton's,  187. 

'  Monsieur'  (Louis  XVIII), 
87,  297. 

'Monsieur'  (Charles  X), 
87,  106,  297. 

Montfort,  Lord  (Mr.  Brom- 
ley), 144. 

Montpensier,  Due  de,  106. 

Moore,  Edward,  203. 

'Morley,  Mrs.',  11. 

Murat,  Mme.  (Caroline 
Bonaparte),  109. 

Murphy,  Arthur,  61,  154. 


Nabob,  The,  Foote's,  60. 

Nanine,  Voltaire's,  62. 

Nenv  Atalantis,  Mrs.  Man- 
ley's,  145. 

Newcastle,  Duke  of,  56. 

Nichols,  John  Bowyer,  55  n. 

Nigris,  M.,  102. 

Noailles,  Marshal  de,  92. 

Nobility,  Whitehead's,  150. 

Nollekens,  Joseph,  236. 

Norden's  Map  at  Kensing- 
ton, 7. 

Northern  Antiquities,  Mal- 
let's, 38. 

North  Garden  at  Kensing- 
ton, 14. 

Northumberland,  Duke  of 
(Hugh  Smithson),  36. 

Northumberland  House,  1, 

4-9- 
Nott,  Dr.,  35. 

Nottingham  House,  3,  4. 

Nugent,  Dr.,  128. 

Nuneham,  Lord,  156,  159. 

O'Brien,  164. 

Odes,  Whitehead's  Roman, 

158. 
Ogden,  Samuel,  146. 
Ogleby,  Lord,  65. 
OldKensington  Palace, 

1-27. 


General  Index 


311 


Old  Slaughter's  CofFee 
House,  287. 

Oldys,  William,  119. 

Omai  of  Otaheite,  54. 

Omar  Khayyam,  158. 

On  Ridicule^  Whitehead, 
14.9. 

Opie's  Mrs.  Delanj\  19. 

Orangery,  The,  at  Kensing- 
ton, 15. 

Oriental  Gardening,  Disser- 
tation on,  Chambers' i>,  221, 
224  p.,  229. 

Orleans,  Due  d',  106. 

Ossory,  Lady,  124. 

Paisiello,  Giovanni,  98. 
Paix   qui   ramene  fAbond- 

ance,  Mme.  Lebrun's,  83, 

90. 
Palladio,  Andrea,  210. 
Palmer,  John,  164. 
Pamela,    Richardson's,    63, 

790. 
Panton  Street  Marionettes, 

The,  63. 
Papworth,  J.  B.,  233. 
Parliament,    The    Ladies', 

154- 
Pathetic     Apology    for     all 
Laureates,     Whitehead's, 
161. 


Paul,  Emperor,  loi. 
Peacock,  T.  L.,  280. 
Pembroke,  Lord,  230. 
Pepusch,  J.  C,  123. 
Percy   and  Goldsmith, 

28-52. 
Percy  Folio,  The,  31. 
Percy,  Henry,  38. 
Percy,  Lord  Algernon,  36. 
Percy,Mrs.,35,36,39,4in., 

4-7- 
Percy,  Thomas,  28-52,  68, 

69^    76,    113,    ii4»    ii5> 
129. 

Perrault,  Claude,  210. 

Persian  Letters,  Lyttelton's, 
174,  183-5. 

Pesne,  Antoine,  19. 

Peterborough,  Lord,  144. 

Peter  the  Great,  6-8,  10. 

Peter  HI,  loi,  102. 

Piety  in  Pattens,  Foote's,  62. 

Piron,  Alexis,  211  n. 

Pitt,  Anne,  24. 

Pitt,  Thomas,  175. 

Pitt,  William  (Lord  Chat- 
ham), 135,  175,  193  n., 
202. 

Plans,  Ek'vations,  etc.,  of 
Ke-iv  Gardens,  Cham- 
bers's, 215. 

Polignac,  Duchesse  de,  98. 


312 


General  Index 


Pollock,  Sir  Frederick,  275. 
Pompadour,  Mme.  de,  19. 
Pontmartin,  M.  de,  53. 
Pope,    Alexander,    12,    30, 
1+5.176,184,  185,  197-8. 
Porporati,  Carlo   Antonio, 

96. 
Porson,  Richard,  133,  135. 
Powell,  Williain,  59,  66. 
Poyntz,  Stephen,  178,  180. 
Princesse  de  Lamballe,  Miss 

B.  C.  Hardy's,  239. 
Prior,  James,  119. 
Pritchard,  Mrs.,  i52n.,  153, 

154,  i64n. 
Privy  Chamber  at  Kensing- 
ton, 18. 
Progress  of  Love,  Ly  ttelton's, 

181. 
Provence,  Comte  de  (Louis 

XVIII),  264,  270,297. 
Puppet-show,   Footers,    62, 

63. 
Pursuits  of  Literature,  Ma- 

thias's,     127  n.,     189  n., 

227  n, 

Qiiarles,  John,  148. 
Queen    Mary's    Gallery    at 

Kensington,  10. 
Queensberry,     Duchess    of 

169. 


Queen's  Closet  at  Kensing- 
ton, 10,  1 1. 

Queen's  Privy  Chamber  at 
Kensington,  1 1. 

Queen's  Private  Dining 
Room  at  Kensington,  1 1. 

Quin,  James,  58. 


Rambles   round   Edge    Hills, 

George  Miller's,  202. 
Ramsay,  Allan,  29. 
Recamier,  Mme.,  104. 
Reliqucs  of  Ancient   Poetry, 

Percy's,  30,  32,  36. 
Resurrection,  Observations  on 

the.  West's,  189. 
Reynolds,   Sir    Joshua,   45, 

107,  113,   114,  129,  207, 

211,  219,  236. 
Ritchie,  Lady,  271,  288. 
Robespierre,    M.-M.-I.   de, 

263. 
Robinson,  William,  231. 
RochFord,  Earl  of,  122. 
Rochford,  Lady,  62. 
Rohan,  Louis-Ren^,  Prince 

and  Cardinal  de,  80  n. 
Roman  faM(fr,Whitehead's, 

152,  163. 
Roman  History,  Observations 

on  the,  Lyttelton's,  183  n. 


General  Index 


13 


Rose  and  the  Ring,  Thack- 
eray's, 287. 
Rose,  Charles  II's  gardener, 

5- 

Rose,  Samuel,  51. 

Round  Pond  at  Kensington, 
18,  25. 

Roux,  Jaques,  260. 

Royal  Academy,  Cham- 
bers's, 218. 

Rubens's  St.  Francis,  20. 

Runic  Poetry,  Fersions  of, 
Percy's,  35. 

Ryland,  W.  W.,  120  n. 

Sacchini,  A.  M.  G.,  91. 

St.  James's  Palace.  12. 

St.  Paul,  Observations  on  the 

Cowersion  of,  Lyttelton's, 

188. 
St,    Peter    and    St.    Paul, 

Cathedral    and    Fortress 

of,  102. 
Sainte-Beuve,  C.  A.,  53. 
Saintsbury,     Mr.     George, 

275-284. 
Sandwich    Lord    ("Jimmy 

Twitcher  "),  54.. 
Sanmicheli,  213. 
Santerre,  260. 
School  for   Lowers,   White- 
head's, 162. 


Schwellenbergen,  Mrs.,  226. 

Scotland  Yard,  1. 

Scott,  223. 

Scott,  John,  117. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,   30,  31, 

i66,  268,  280. 
Scythes,  Les,  Voltaire's,  60. 
Seasons,  Thomson's,  199. 
Sentimental  Comedy,  62. 
Serious  Call,  Law's,  10. 
Serpentine,  The,  25. 
Ser'va  Padrona,  La,  72. 
Seymour,  Lady  Betty,  36. 
Sharawaggi,  The,  212. 
Shaw,  Rev.  William,  134. 
Shebbeare,  Dr.,  223. 
Shenstone,  William,  29,  42, 

200-1. 
She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  Gold- 
smith's, 48,   50,  64,  75, 

205  n. 
Siddons,  Mrs.,  107. 
Simon  the  cobbler, 251,258. 
Sir  John  Hawkins,  Knt., 

I 12-1 39. 
Smoke    ot    London,    The, 

I,  2. 
Smollett,    Tobias    George, 

196,  202-3,  224. 
Somerset  House,  231-6. 
Somerset  House  Gazette,  233. 
Southey,  Robert,  30,  276. 


314 


General  Index 


Sowven'irs   de    Mme.  V'lgee- 

Lebrun,  82. 
Stael,  Mme.  de,  109. 
Stanhope,  Philip,  205. 
Stanley,  John,  the  organist, 

117. 
Steevens,   George,   51,  71, 

72,  126,  132. 
Sterne,  Laurence,  55,  78. 
Storer,  Miss   Sidney  (Mrs. 

Hawkins),  1 18. 
Strange,  Sir  Robert,  19. 
Stratford  Jubilee,  57,  66. 
Stratford,  Miss  A.  E.,  56. 
Straus,  Mr.  Ralph,  157  n. 
Suspicious  Husband,  151. 
Sussex,  Duke  of,  26. 
Sussex,  Lord,  34. 
6'-xut.'^/^r  J,  Whitehead's,  155. 
Swift,  Jonathan,  12. 

Taine,  M.  Hippolyte,  234-5, 

2740.,  2S1,  285. 
Tallien,     Mme.    (Theresia 

Cabarrus),  104. 
Temple,  The,  240,  291-6. 
Testament,  Le,  Fontenelle's, 

162. 
Testimony, etc.,  Goret's,  252. 
Thackeray,     portraits     of, 

272. 
Thackeray's  MSS.,  272. 


Thackeray,  W.  M.,  19,  20. 

Theatrical  Club  at  Wright's 
Coffee  House,  59. 

The  OxfordThackeray, 
271-289. 

Thomson,  James,  198- 
200. 

Thomson,  Mr.  G.  C.  Macau- 
lay's,  200  n. 

Thoresby,  Ralph,  4. 

Thrale,  Mrs.,  73,  112,  114, 

133- 
"  Three  Black  Crows,"  By- 

rom's,  94. 

Threnodia  Augustalis,  Gold- 
smith's, 75. 

Tickell's  Kensington  Gar- 
dens, 17,  26. 

Tintoretto's  Esther  before 
Ahasuerus,  20. 

Tison,  Pierre,  241,  254. 

Titian's  Venus,  19. 

Titled  Authors^    Walpole's, 

36. 

Todi,  Mme.,  91. 

Tom  Jones,  Fielding's,  79, 
201. 

Tour  to  the  Hebrides,  Bos- 
well's,  140. 

Tourzel,  Mme.  de,  241. 

Toulan,  Fran^ois-Adrien, 
257. 


General  Index 


315 


Tower  of  the  Temple,  The 
Great,  293-6. 

Tower  of  the  Temple,  The 
Little,  292-3. 

Towers,  Rev.  Joseph,  134.. 

Townshend,  Charles,  146. 

Travels,  Cradock's,  80, 

Trial  of  Selim,  Moore's,  203. 

Tripier-Le  Franc,  Mme. 
J.,  109. 

Trip  to  Scotland,  White- 
head's, 168. 

True  Greatness,  Fielding's, 
201. 

Turgy,  249,  251,  259. 

"  Turk's  Head  "  in  Gerrard 
Street,  128. 

Turner,  J.  M.  W.,  236. 

Twining,  113. 

Tyers,  Tom,  i  34. 

Van  Dyck's  Charles  I,  20. 

Variety,  Whitehead's,  168. 

Vaudreuil,  M.  de,  90,  93, 
106. 

Venice  Preser'v'd,  Otway's, 
62. 

Vergy,  Gabrielle  de,  253, 

Vernet,  Joseph,  90. 

Vernon,  Admiral,  138. 

Ficar  of  Wakefield,  Gold- 
smith's, 47,  284. 


Victoria,  Queen,  26. 

Vigee-Lebrun,  Mme.,  82- 
III,  264,  265,  266. 

Vigee,  Louis,  84. 

Village  Memoirs,  Cradock's, 
57-60. 

Villiers,  Lord,  150,  156. 

Vision  of  Solomon,  White- 
head's, 147. 

Voltaire,  53,  6on.,  61,  62n., 
109,  i8on.,  193,  211  n., 
229. 

Voyage  du  feune  Anacharsis 
en  Gr^r^,Barthelemy's,92. 

Wale,  Samuel,  119,  i2on., 
Wales,  Prince  of  (George 

III),  108. 
Walker,  Fred.,  272,  274  n. 
Wallis,  Dr.,  125. 
Walpole,  Horace,  43,  121, 

147,  204,  206,  212,  226. 
Walpole,  Sir  R.,  177,  183. 
Walton's  ^w^/dTjHawkins's, 

116. 
Warburton,  Dr.,  189. 
Warrington,  George,  19. 
Warton,  Joseph,  182-183. 
Warton,  Thomas,  226. 
Wesley,  John,  194. 
West,  Benjamin,  107,  147. 
West,  Gilbert,  176,  186. 


3i6 


Genei'al  hidex 


Wft^^x^s  Death  of  Wolfe,  19. 
West's  Sons  of  George  HI, 

19. 
West'ward  Ho !,  Kingsley's, 

116. 
Westwood,  Thomas,    119, 

121. 
Whitefoord,  Caleb,  236. 
Whitehall,  i,  14.. 
Whitehead,  Memoirs  0/^  Ma- 
son's, 140,  141. 
Whitehead,  Paul,  122,  143. 
Whitehead,  William,    140- 

172. 
Wilkes,  John,  56,  57,  122, 

170. 
Wilkie,  David,  236. 
William  III,  3,  5,  6,  8. 
Williams,  John  ("Anthony 

Pasquin  "),  232,  234. 
Williams,  Mrs.,  35,  73. 


Wilson,  Richard,  236. 
Wilton,  Joseph,  211,  236. 
Wise,  Henry,  5,  14,  25. 
Wonder,  The,  67. 
Wordsworth,  William,  29, 

30. 
World,  Moore's,  204. 
World,  Whitehead's  papers 

in  the,  156. 
Wortley- Montagu,     Lady 

Mary,  170,  182. 
Wraxall's  Memoirs,  8  n. 
Wren,  Sir   Christopher^  4, 

18. 

Yates,  Mrs.,  54,  60,  62,  63, 

164. 
Yates,  Richard,  75. 

Zobeide,  Cradock's,  57,  61, 
62,  75. 


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